


The Diary of Sidney Parker- Volume 3

by swalviswriter



Series: The Diary of Sidney Parker, volume 1,2,3 [2]
Category: Sanditon (TV 2019), Sanditon - Jane Austen
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:01:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 63,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27544999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swalviswriter/pseuds/swalviswriter
Summary: A decade has past and Windswept Cottage is filled with seven children under the age of eleven years old, The struggles of growing up have never been more fun than when Sidney Parker is your Papa and the love of your parents is still as strong as it was when first they married.The town of Sanditon has grown, cousins have grown up and married. The world is an exciting place if you are a Parker.This is an everyday story of a family living their best lives in a small coastal town in 1833.
Relationships: Charlotte Heywood/Sidney Parker
Series: The Diary of Sidney Parker, volume 1,2,3 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1976539
Comments: 295
Kudos: 203





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The Sanditon Squad](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The+Sanditon+Squad).



1 January 1833

I knew it would happen, my children! In the blink of an eye, Sanditon and everyone living with in the boundaries of this lovely place, have changed!  
A decade is a long time (Grace reminds me daily that she is eleven years old, ‘mostly grown up and likely to marry just anytime’ now!) This is a dagger to my heart and the cheeky glance she gives me after saying so, allows me to realize she knows it!  
My journal flagged when the babies were in their first year, as I was afraid it would! Ten are the Christmases that have past, two are the additional Parker babies born. Wesley Randolph Sykes Parker (age 5) and Diana Jane Loving Parker (2) were added calmly to this rowdy crowd and their babyhoods were so easy compared to the five before them, there was never time to write much about either. I do so now.  
At age five, Randy is the philosophical one in the family. “Let’s think about it, Papa… should we paddle in the cove now and read later?” The one time I suggested we do both, the tide rolled up the sand, stealing his book on jungle animals and quite ruining it in the surf before either of us noticed. “Perhaps I will just make another,” he said, and spent the whole of last summer drawing pictures to go with the words he remembered for Gabby to write down on his drawing tablet. Both were happy with their project and it never occurred to either one of them that adding it back to our library would be received with any less aplomb than the original leatherbound volume.  
Jane Loving smiles. She smiles at everyone she meets and removes her shriveled thumb from between her pursed little lips to do so. Her words are not extensive and Ben will often say something along the lines of, “Jane Loving would like another piece of toast without so much marmalade, this time” and we all laugh as she nods her head, extracting her thumb long enough to munch the treat procured for her by her hero, Ben. Why talk when you can not get a word in edgewise and someone will interpret your inner most desires with a far more extensive vocabulary?

From moments of blissful peace, a row can kick up over the most inconsequential subjects. My family is opinionated, loud and, though mostly kind, my children can rival the hounds of hell when they discern any unfairness toward each other or from the world they live in. Often, they will break into rival sects only to regroup the next day when a different fight holds more appeal, choosing the side of the sibling they declared to dislike forever just yesterday!  
They are never, though, unwilling to take up the Parker mantle against the world as Charles Babington found out after a Christmas day cricket match.  
“First of all,” said Charles, loudly, “Real ladies do not play cricket! They sit on the sidelines and cheer for the men who are born knowing how to play the game!”  
Grace was in his face before we could stop her, standing nose to nose with the red headed young man in front of her. At fourteen he was a bit chunky, red cheeked and, in his opinion, always right in every assessment he uttered.  
“You, Charles Babington, need to climb down from your high horse and learn the way cricket is played by the Parkers of Sanditon,” admonished Grace.  
“Yeah,” said Ben, backing her up. “If the girls do not play we cannot conjure enough players for a decent match!”  
“We should not argue over cricket! It is Christmas!” added Gabby, making a seasonal appeal.  
“Ladies in London know their place,” said Charles loftily. “I quit! Come on Ruby…Edith… we are going home!”  
“Go on, Charles! I would like to stay,” said Ruby.  
“I will play as long as you do not bowl with all your strength, Joe! I am afraid you might hit me.” said Edith softly.  
Joe looked at Edith as though he might melt.  
“I would never hit you, Edith!” he said worshipfully. “Be on my team and I will make sure you are kept quite safe!” Edith with her blonde hair and green eyes had Joe volunteering for the knighthood and Charlotte and I watched with amusement.  
“Oh, good grief, Michael! Just bowl already! You boys are such ninnies! We will not break!” encouraged Grace.  
Smack! The first hit went far from the front yard and Ben ran the length of the beach path to retrieve it.  
I will admit, my girls remind me so very much of Charlotte that when her hand slipped into mine I kissed it quite happily, remembering the cricket match into which she inserted herself on the beach all those years ago. On that day, I wanted to kiss her so badly it became a tangible longing of my heart, and I have never underestimated the power of cricket and the apparent effect it can have on romance, at any age.  
“Look, Edith,” said Joe gently, “You must not close your eyes before you swing the bat!”  
Charlotte chuckled. “Do you see Charles spying on the group from just up the path?” she said under her breath. “Did our crowd chase him off or did he quit?”  
“He is experiencing a most rebellious loss of his favorite game as the girls are now intent on playing. Before his Father returns, he may change his mind! If Esther catches him spewing his truths about the limitations of women, she may very well box his ears!” I answered, caressing her thumb.  
“Might you explain what Gabby is doing?” she queried.  
“She is looking for interesting insects, of course, and playing outfield!”  
“In December?” asked Charlotte twinkling at me.  
“Come on Charles!” shouted Michael, ever the diplomat, “It’s your turn at bat! Show ‘em how it’s done in London!”  
Charles strolled back into the match as though he had been on the sidelines all along. As the oldest child in the group he struggled with an inability to be the playmate of yesteryear and the Eaton man he was intent on becoming. No pretensions were acceptable in this crowd, Christmas or not, and the match was soon to be called on account of dinner.  
Michael bowled with all his strength.  
‘Smack!’  
The cricket ball smacked the bat and flew over Gabby’s bent form and straight into the large window at the front of Windswept, shattering the glass into a million fractured pieces.  
“And that’s the match!” said Ben drolly.  
A period of stillness followed among the stunned players and every head turned in my direction.  
“It was totally Gabby’s fault!” shouted Charles, unkindly “If she had been paying attention instead of pretending to be a naturalist, she could have easily fielded the ball before it hit the window!”  
Gabriella softly said, “I am so sorry, Papa.” She ran into the house before anyone else could see the tears falling like a waterfall down her reddened cheeks. Charlotte followed her.  
The children separated themselves from Charles as though he were a contagion and filed into the house without another word, leaving him by himself on the lawn.  
Babers and Esther arrived at that moment and Babington discerned the situation at once, addressing Charles who was still holding the bat. Esther left them to sort it out and joined Charlotte in the house.  
“Son? What happened to Mr Parker’s window?”  
“This is why, Father” Charles began, “One should never let girls play cricket!” He was cross, embarrassed, and doubling down in his apparent attempt to pass the blame.  
“No worries, Babers,” said I. “I will just round up Jessup and we will find something to cover the hole where the window was! I will see you both, inside, at dinner!”

I missed what happened next with Babington and Charles. Charles was not at dinner and none of the Babington ladies questioned his absence.  
By the time the pudding was served, Gabby’s good spirits were restored. When I kissed her on the forehead, she clung just for a moment and she knew my heart passed no blame in her direction.

Later, that night the family was sitting around the fire in the quiet lull that follows the bustle of Christmas day. Jane sat on my lap, reaching behind her to rub the whiskers along my jaw while sucking her the thumb on her other hand.  
Randy was curled in Charlotte’s lap, drowsy and content.  
“Papa?” asked Ben, “What happened with Charles and the window?”  
“It was just an accident! It might have been me! I was the next at bat!” said Grace.  
“Yes, Papa, are you very angry? We are all so sorry!” said Michael. “I might have bowled too hard.”  
“That window has rattled with the wind for more than twelve years and the drawing room will be most chilly until it is replaced. No, I am not angry, children. It was an accident. How one handles an accident is always more import than the accident in the first place! I am sorry Charles does not feel comfortable enough to make a personal apology without passing the blame.”  
“If Lady Denham had been here, she would have boxed his ears!” said Grace with assurance.  
Lady Denham died last spring. Well into her nineties, she and Grace had always held a mutual admiration society. Although we all missed her, it was Grace who kept the good lady alive by mentioning her wit and her spirit almost daily. As the evening grew late a knock on the door roused everyone. All of us glanced toward the library door as Jessup entered, followed by Charles and Babington.  
“Please, pardon our intrusion,” said Babers, “My son was unwilling to go to bed until he addressed you all and I hope we might have a moment of your time.”  
“I wish to say, that is, I must say, that I am most sorry I broke your window… Mr and Mrs Parker. Equally important is the fact, Gabriella, that I should not have blamed you or tried to discourage you girls, er… ladies, from playing cricket in the first place.”  
Gabby rushed from the room without responding, but the other children gathered around him in total acceptance and his relief was apparent.  
After a few minutes, the Babingtons readied to leave, and Gabby appeared with a basket.  
“Here, Charles. It is your Christmas pudding, some pheasant from our wonderful dinner and a book for you to take back to school. I thought you might enjoy Mary Shelley’s writing since you have never read it. Happy Christmas, Charles.”  
“Thank you, Gabby! I am sure I remind you of Shelley’s monster and I will enjoy it! Again, I am most sorry for being such a spoil sport when you were all so nice to include me!”  
“As your father will tell you, Charles. It will take far more than a broken window to have this crowd throw away a lifelong friendship, son. Thank you for showing my children just how to make a sincere apology.”  
The Babingtons left and my own brood headed for bed, Gabriella taking Jane Loving from me and hugging me close.  
The soft, contented pall of a post-holiday hung in the library as Charlotte came to sit next to me on the divan.  
“Sidney, I have a new journal for you! I think Randy drew a different family member on the remaining pages of your last one! I placed it on the top shelf of your study.”  
The package she handed me was wrapped in brown paper, tied with the twine that came from a fine stationer’s shop in London.  
“Graham chose this one for me when he and Susan were last in London when he purchased other books for the children. I hope you will enjoy it and reinstate the habit that will record the finest hours of the Parkers!”

“Charlotte? Did you notice how complete was the will and discussion of our children over the broken window? I was so very proud of their cumulative kindnesses toward Charles! And my Gabby! She was so much like you, with her ready forgiveness and the restorative power of her esteem! Charles went home with his father, perhaps changed for the better over the breaking of a little glass.”

“I adore you, Sidney Parker! Surely you see that the parenting of their dear Papa has taught them much about dealing with other people so well- Why are you reticent to acknowledge how well you teach them?”  
I gathered her to me and kissed her.  
“Charlotte, you forever build me up, give me credit for their humor and their brilliance, their fairness and their uncanny ability to find the best in others. It would quite inflate my ego if I did not know the truth behind it! Have you ever met their mother? She is the most extraordinary woman I have ever known!”  
“Yes,” said she, playfully. “I hear her wisdom is only surpassed by her beauty… and her modesty!” she deadpanned.  
She still shrieks when I tickle her, and it always sets the stage for the glowing fire between us that has only increased in passion as the years pass.

I am, indeed, the most blessed of men.  
Good night my children, happy new year.  
Papa

15 January

When Eliza and her husband came to town more than a decade ago, they attempted to buy Sanditon House from Lady Denham. Much to Mary’s vexation, Tom keeps in touch with anyone he thinks might fund his next great idea for Sanditon and still corresponds with Eliza. To my knowledge, Eliza and her husband have never funded anything, but she hovers around the edges of our lives and we hear of her from Susan and Graham and her social exploits in London.  
Charlotte and I agreed never to mention her name, as though our ignoring her would somehow keep her at bay.

Lady Denham flatly refused their ludicrous offer. It would have made her shockingly rich and in a single blow, turned us into their miserable neighbors. She did not even consider it, Esther told me later. After she died, she left the use of the house to the town as a setting for a school for a period of twenty years and then, after twenty years, the use of the property was to be determined by the Babington children, all of whom had inherited an equal share.  
A trio of teachers and their headmaster, a married man named Callum Renfroe, will be here by the summer and the official Sanditon School would open next September. Grace was so excited she could hardly contain herself and Gabby just hoped the subjects appealing to a junior naturalist would be taught.  
Lady Denham left many specifics. Every child might attend no matter of their background and everyone in town was eager to support the school.  
Minerva Smithfelden married the butcher several years ago, becoming Minerva Smithfelden Jones. I see her often and never ceased to marvel how very calm and assured she became. Her daughters married brothers from Surrey and they have so many small children between them that she is forever relating the travails of their lives ‘upcounty’.

Susan and Graham have the extraordinary fortune of such a peaceful relationship that the individuals who know them are simply overjoyed by the process. They are honorary relatives in our family, but Alisha and Robbie now have two children of their own and Harry and Rachel are expecting in the spring, so we seem to never see them often enough. Every summer they host several of our older children for short tours of the Lake District and have even ventured as far as the Highlands.  
I will soon be 44 years old. My hair is greying a bit at the temples and I am grateful for every year that passes leaving us all healthy and happy.  
I realize how extraordinary is life we lead, when I experience more love in a single week than most people have in a lifetime. Charlotte is the woman of my dreams and I never lose sight of this fact.  
The Jessups are still with us, though they have built a modest cottage at the corner of Sanditon Park where they now live. Our carriage house now holds the carriage and the room above is used as a fort and playroom. Once nutrition no longer became a daily worry for either of them, they began a family of their own and two rowdy boys soon followed.  
I often see the boys roving through the woods armed with sling shots and dressed like pirates. I know Sara has great hopes that the opening of school will tame her rather wild boys. We all still laugh at Grace who ended up tied to a chair when the Jessup pirates were listening to her read to them from Robinson Crusoe.  
Crowe has two very feminine little daughters. They adore him unabashedly and though they are three years apart, Cathy and Connie Crowe dress exactly alike and respond to most events with giggles in unison that make Michael and Joe cringe. They are quiet and serene little girls who, though always most welcome here, visit our rowdy household as one might an exotic menagerie. They are always delighted to leave, and though Dulcey still comes often, the girls observe my crowd with less than enthusiasm for the plays and musicals that are always in some stage of rehearsal in the carriage house.  
At least once a week someone from the Parker residence expresses the wonder of what one of the Crowe daughters might have related to their father when they returned home after visiting our household. We always laugh and I am pleased to report, I have never been questioned by Crowe.

So, my children, I am continually delighted with the seven of you outstanding individuals that live here at Windswept with your mother and me. We start a new year, a new decade for many of you, knowing that our lives might change in a split second, and so glad for the blessing of every day.

Good night my children. Sleep well and know that I surround you with the hope for your every happiness in this new decade of your lives.

Papa


	2. Chapter 2

20 January

The morning light was newly gray and our room chilly from dying embers on the hearth, Charlotte was across me in the bed. Kissing my chin and we both were enjoying the last moments alone together before launching into a busy Sunday morning.

Suddenly, we heard little feet running down the wood floors of the hall toward our room. Quickly Charlotte rolled away from me and I threw my shirt to her from last night. After sliding back into my night shirt, I had just settled back on the bed when our door flew open. At full tilt, Jane slid into our room and launched her self on the bed, wiggling in between us, finally able to let the sob go which had been stuck in her throat while she ran.

Charlotte gathered her close and she hid her head in Charlotte’s chest.

“What happened, dear Lady Jane Loving? Tell your Papa, and I will try to help!”  
Removing the comforting thumb from her mouth she said, simply, “Mon’sta!”  
“Oh, my darling! There are no monsters at Windswept!”  
“Oh, yes there are, Papa!” Her eyes were distended in horror and she was holding a hand full of Charlotte’s hair like a life line.  
I stood on the floor at once. “Is he in here?” I asked her, seriously.  
“Could he be behind the drapes?” I crossed the room ruffling the drapery and looking carefully. “No…not here!” I opened the cupboards and the door to the dressing room. “Not here, either!

“Unner th’ bed?” she asked, whispering in a shaking voice.  
I dropped to my knees while Charlotte looked on in amused silence.  
“Well, hello!” I said. “Who might you be?”.  
I saw Jane look over the edge of our bed, hanging on to Charlotte for dear life.  
“I will pass that along, friend,” said I, seriously. “My advice is to stay there, with your eyes closed, until we sort this out.”  
I climbed back into bed and gathered my girls to me.  
“He says he’s ‘Windswept Winklesteen’ and he has lived under our beds for many years.”  
“How positively mortifying!” Charlotte whispered, cheekily.  
“He is friendly and very afraid we will send him away into the cold!”  
Jane sat up. “ ‘Windswept Winklesteen?’ Ask him why he was unner my bed, Papa!?”  
Gaby and Grace climbed up on the bed to join us and Randy rounded the corner sleepily, requiring help to pull himself up on the bed.

Before I could answer, Ben, Joe and Michael gathered on the foot of the bed. It was not quite the way I imagined my quiet early morning hour just moments ago and I looked longingly at my wife.  
“What are we doing, then?” asked Ben looking around at his siblings.  
“Shhhhh!”said Jane, “Papa is hunting th’ monsta!” The tears were pouring from her eyes and she was most pitiful.  
Randy said, “Jane Loving, why would he hurt us? Why don’t we simply leave him alone?”  
“Papa said his name is ‘Windswept Winklesteen’ and he is under the bed… right now!” she whispered.  
Gabriella chuckled but she pulled her bare feet up under her and Joe moved to sit cross-legged at end of the bed.  
“So,” said I, “I would really like to know who mentioned monsters to Jane before bedtime?”  
“It might have been me, Papa” said Ben sheepishly. “I did not know she was listening!”  
Jane had ceased her shuddering sobs to lie quietly against Charlotte and every face was staring at me for a solution to the very real problem of the monster of Windswept.

“First of all, ‘Windswept Winklesteen’ would like to stay. He promises that he will not interfere with any of our family activities and will only stay under the bed of the child who needs him most, to assure good dreams and the best of health!”  
“Papa!” said Grace, “That is just silly!”  
“Perhaps Winklesteen should just live under your bed from now on!” said Michael to Grace, “Then none of the rest of us will ever hafta worry where he is.”  
“I tell you what, children,” said Charlotte. “By the time we return from church this morning Winklesteen will have made up his mind where he will hide and I do not expect to hear from him again… right, Ben?”  
“Right, Mama. C’mon boys let’s go get ready!” They all left our room. All except Randy and Jane. The older girls soon followed.  
“Papa,” said Randy. “If you will take care and pwotect our Mama, I will walk Jane Loving back to nurse.”  
“I promise you son, I will do everything in my power to protect your Mama from the monsters of the night!” I said, most solemnly.  
I kissed them both. With one longing look back at us, Jane walked with Randy from the room, closing the door behind him.  
“A monster under the bed?” giggled Charlotte. “More like in the bed!” said she.  
I could simply not allow that comment to stand as acceptable and I tickled her until she was gasping.  
When I kissed her deeply, she added, “He’s under the bed right now…oh, ugh…” she giggled.  
Well, hell. That backfired! I was ready for breakfast any way.

Later that morning we arrived at church a bit late and we walked the aisle to the front of the nave as the last bell chimed.  
Reverend Hankins and I exchanged a look and he began the service. He no longer climbs the steps up to the pulpit, favoring his bad hip and he walked around the front to the church as he spoke.  
“This morning we read from the book of 1st John, verse 4:18, ‘ There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear, because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love.’”  
From Charlotte’s lap a little voice answered, “I am not afraid!”  
“No, Jane,” answered the Reverend, chuckling, “I am sure you are perfectly loved.”

She nodded her head and placed her thumb back in her mouth most happily, oblivious of the quiet laughter that rippled over the pews.  
I am not sure what the Reverend Hankins shared in the rest of his sermon. I was content to sit with my beautiful family and think of each person next to me in a quiet hour when I could consider the hopes of each heart without interruption.  
There were thoughts of horse rides and beach hikes, of long nights by the fire and the windy darkness when Charlotte and I were content in each other’s arms when our silent home slumbered around us. I was the richest man here, and I knew it.

When church was over, we met Arthur who was accompanied by Diana and Hans.  
“Well met, brother!” said Arthur, “We might be enticed by a Sunday roast and some port wine!”  
said he hopefully, “Tom and Mary are still in London,” he added, "and we three are at loose ends!”

“Please by all means, join us,” said Charlotte, graciously, “I told Sara this morning to plan on at least three more for luncheon!”  
We walked home in amiable conversation, the children skipping ahead, eager for lunch.  
When all had had their fill and the adults were sitting around the empty table, pleased to enjoy the company of each other, Charlotte shared the story of the monster of Windswept.

It was a bit embarrassing.  
Hans, ever charmed by my brood, reached into his pocket and wrote out a fake set of orders for Jane and calling her to him, got down on one knee to explain his ‘cure’ for monsters.  
“Have Papa bring you to see me in town tomorrow! I will make up a special solution that you will place around your bed once a week and Monster Winklesteen will have no choice but to stay hidden! You will never have to be afraid again!”  
Her eyes were round with wonder as she left us and he placed his finger on the side of his nose as he watched her go.  
“A small bottle of lavender water will do the trick.” said he. “Let me know when you need more!”

As the afternoon lengthened, Gabriella came to the study, knocking before entering the door.  
“Papa, may I ask you something? I want to know why some people, like us, seem to have such splendid lives, and other people do not? Does God not love them as much as He does the Parkers?”

She came and sat on my lap as she always has done, but I noted with regret that her feet now touched the floor and regardless of how I might wish to slow time, she was growing up faster than I could have ever thought possible.

“I do not have an answer for that Gaby! We are blessed indeed. I do know that every single time something vexes me beyond reason, I realize in the great scheme of things it is not as important as are we all to each other and I am content to wait for the best in any situation to reveal itself.”

“That is so hard to do, Papa. I want to make things work at once! I want to make the boys behave, the weather to change, my friends to be well and able to play… of so many things! I have slept in my bed for many nights, so afraid of monsters, unwilling to believe I could run to you for help, quaking until morning light made me safe again! I did not believe God would help me. I did not trust that you could!” she said softly.

“Gabby, darling girl! Many are the years your Papa spent outside the circle of knowing what real love could do! Before I met your mother, I was desolate and sure there was no purpose for the life of such an outlier! I had more fears than I could count and more wishes than stars in the sky!”  
“What changed, Papa?”  
“You mother came into my life! She challenged my thoughts on virtually every subject until all I could think of were the ways I might improve to be worthy of her! She has a deep and abiding faith, in God, in me and in each of you! Such belief is very empowering you know, even when you know it might be true but are yet to sincerely feel it!”  
“I doubt, Papa!”  
“As do I! But everyday we must take stock in all of the blessings we do believe and have the hope that all the rest will follow!”  
“I miss her, you know, Lady Denham? She was always so pleased with just who I was! She never tried to change me! “Olly Dolly, you are so dear,” she would say. I do not have another friend who holds me quite as dear.”  
“We all miss her, Gabby! I for one, will never forget all she did for me and you must hold her kindness near to your heart, always. You are so very dear to so many of us you have become unaware of how special that is! I love you, my angel girl! Never, ever forget it! As for the rest, there is a lot to ponder about the world! More than one small girl can possibly figure out on a Sunday afternoon!”  
“I am not so very small anymore, Papa! I do love you, you know!”  
“And I you, never forget.”

She left me then and I was choked up for a moment. My own father never forgot to tell us all how much he loved us! When my parents died, I had forgotten how much those moments meant and I lost sight of the importance of the words with all their loving actions until I met Charlotte!  
My children, I realize I do not know the myriad of ways you each may think, your insecurities or your ‘monsters’! 

If it is in my power to quell the things in life that may frighten you, I will certainly try do it. But in the dark of night when your fear is too large to face, I can only offer you the truth we heard today: perfect love casts off fear, and each of you are perfectly loved.

Sleep well, my children. Good night, Ben! Sweet dreams, Grace. Joe, Michael, and Gabby, sleep well! Randy and Jane, ‘Windswept Winklesteen’ has gone to visit relatives in Scotland and will not be back for a long while, at least not until we are ready.  
Good night, one and all! I now go to your Mama who loves me, perfectly!

Papa


	3. Chapter 3

24 January

My little Jane Loving did not forget the ‘mon’sta juice’ promised by her Uncle Hans, so on Wednesday morning, a day when I planned to spend one half day in the Emporium, I took her to town sitting in front of me on Drifter’s saddle.  
A tall black Friesian, Drifter seems to march when he walks, and he prances when complimented on his handsomeness. This tall horse would be intimidating to a new rider and yet, his gentle demeanor insures he is a favorite in our stable.  
Ben handed Jane up to me and her sky blue coat was straightened to cover her legs. She settled back against me and would have proudly ridden to London had that been our destination. As it was the trip to town was over in just a few moments and I handed her down to Diana.  
Jane Loving held on tightly with her right hand while her left hand was missing the thumb on the glove so her thumb might be sucked upon while her hand was kept warm.

“Diana, Jane Loving will be joining her Papa at the Emporium this morning and when you arrive she would love to help you water the plants inside the solarium.”  
“Oh Janie, would you really be willing to assist me this morning? I would be so grateful!”  
Jane nodded before removing her thumb from her mouth to negotiate with Hans.  
“Now, Fraulein Jane, I have monster repellent in two different strengths. You must choose which you prefer.”  
She smelled the identical vials of lavender water and then said, “Might I have both? I brought two pence and Gaby said she might also like some,”  
Hans wrapped the vials in brown paper and tied them with twine.  
“Save your pence for Papa’s store little one! He has a candy selection that rivals the finest store in London!”  
She giggled happily and hugged him.  
Walking the horse with her in the saddle, I proceeded to the store.  
“This is my youngest daughter, Jean Marc! Meet Jane Loving Parker!”  
The Frenchman bowed at the waist before kissing her hand.  
“Bonjour, Madamoiselle Jane Loving! Comment allez-vous?”  
Her eyes were enormous as she looked around at me. To my knowledge she has never heard French and though she knew he addressed her directly, I knew she had no idea what he said.

The thumb came out of her mouth and she said, “I have monsta sauce!”  
He laughed delightedly. “Then you are fine indeed, my lady!”  
“Oh, I not lady. I is jus a little gull! My Papa will tell you!”  
She looked up at me with such trust I lifted her up to our eye level at once, enchanted that I had a part in the creation of such a darling creature.  
In a very few minutes she was staring into the candy case and I thought to myself that  
Charlotte would have my head for a centerpiece if I let Jane get carried away.  
“I need to have six pieces,” she told Willis, as though she was making an exorbitant purchase. “I have two pence.”  
Out came the chocolate gorgons, the jelly candies and the peppermints.  
“How many is six, Papa?” said she behind her hand, earnestly. I winked at Willis.  
“Tell Papa for whom you wish to buy!”  
“Silly Papa! Ben, Grace, Gabby, Michael, Joe and Randy…and Mama…and Sara Jessup and oh!... you Papa!”  
“That is nine pieces, Jane! Are you sure that is enough? I believe you left out yourself!”  
For a moment her brow furrowed and then she said, “That is awright, you see, because I got the monsta sauce and rode to town on Dwifta’ with you Papa!”  
Willis wrapped the candy including enough for everyone and then adding several pieces for Jane which she did not notice. The waxed bag was tied with a ribbon and left on the counter for us to pick up on the way home.  
She handed over the two pence and scurried to the back of the store where her Aunt Diana was waiting with an out stretched hand and huge welcoming smile.  
“She’s a heartbreaker, Sir, if I may say so!” said Willis. He was smiling as we watched her go.  
“I am curious, though. What exactly is monster sauce?”

I was saved from a lengthy explanation by the simultaneous arrival of Crowe and Arthur who were discussing their trip to the continent this spring and the places that might coincide in their travels.  
“Hans Fuchs has recruited a partner from Italy, Dr A.L. Perretti and I am going to travel back to Sanditon with the doctor at the beginning of May from Rome. Might you want to travel in March or April?” Arthur asked.  
I quit listening, honestly, knowing the two of them did not need my input as they plan. I knew Hans was looking for someone to help him by taking on the growing list of patients under the age of twenty with the development of the school and the fact that the ease of attending would recruit even more families into the town.  
By the time I walked into the solarium to retrieve Jane, she was more wet than dry. She and Diana were having a tea party under the large tree that grew in the middle of the glass room.  
I bowed to them when I entered, marveling at the humidity in the room and how becoming Diana looked.  
“Happiness becomes you, sister!” I said.  
“Thank you, Sidney! That I am.”

When we finally arrived home, it was time for tea and my Jane passed out the treats she purchased in town with serious attention. Charlotte was touched she had been included and Sara was delighted. When every single person had three pieces of candy, Jane stopped.  
“Whatever shall I do Papa? I have three left!”  
“They are yours, Jane! You were so thoughtful about everyone else, I thought you would enjoy them yourself.”  
An enormous grin split her face. “Thank you, Papa!”  
Jane! For a child almost four, Jane Loving was growing into her name very well.  
As I carried the pot to the kitchen behind Sara whose arms were overloaded by the tray she said, “Just think of that baby considering me! How very kind she is!”  
It made me chuckle for I have witnessed her pinch Randy as hard as her little fingers could, when she was angry that he pulled her pigtail. There will be never be a perfect child in this Parker household and I would not wish it, were it possible.  
With great ceremony, Gabby and Jane Loving rubbed the floor around every bed with lavender water and stored the remaining ‘monster sauce’ in the larder under Sara’s direction.

“Did you include my bed, Jane Loving?” asked Charlotte grinning.  
“Oh, yes Mamma! We did your bed first because Papa saw the monster there last!”  
“Thank you, baby, for assuring my safety!”

Later that night when the house was quiet, I rolled on my side, my back to Charlotte.  
“Well good night then!” she said, teasing me. “Sidney! Are you already asleep?”

“Goodness no, Charlotte, but this monster sauce is putting off the beast within and I am not sure I can gather the energy to even give you a single kiss goodnight!”  
She quite attacked me then, my children! Your mother is a formidable opponent when she wishes to be and after we wrestled for a while we sorted out the fact that monster sauce will only work on the under the bed sort of beastie. The matter is now closed, and I find I am most relieved.  
At the Crown the next night I was explaining the whole monster situation to Babington and Crowe while we split a bottle of port.  
“I remember,” said Crowe nostalgically, “When our conversations were a bit more…racy!”  
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Babers, laughing. “I think Parker could work this whole thing out in his favor if he has not already! I mean Charlotte saw a monster at the cove once upon the time and that worked out ok!”  
“Shush, Crowe! Don’t be an ass!”  
“I have been an ass now for these many years and it serves me well!”  
Babers laughed. “I think Jane sounds charming!  
“Here’s to nostalgia and to the rose lipped maidens we married!” he toasted.  
“And the fleeted footed lads we once were!” added Crowe.  
Our evening was over after one bottle, our newly practiced habit, and we stood to go when a man walked up to our trio, extending his hand.  
“Are you Lord Babington? My name is Callum Renfroe and I am the head master you hired to lead the new Sanditon School.”

“Yes! Nice to meet you! You are a few months early, are you not?”

“My wife and I came to inspect the town,” said he. “It is a pleasant enough burg!”

“I hope you will be well pleased! These gentleman are parents of some of your future students!  
“May I present Mr Francis Crowe, the father of two daughters and Mr Sidney Parker, the father of seven, five of whom will be at school this fall!”  
He bowed slightly looking us over and I had the distinct impression we did not measure up to his standards.  
“And you, Lord Babington? Are you not also a parent?”  
“Yes. My girls, Ruby and Edith, will be with you this fall, but my son will be in his second year at Eaton.”  
“Eaton, huh? Well, bully for him!”  
I started.  
Crowe said, “Sir! You overstep with your commentary!”  
Babers was struck dumb at the apparent affront.  
“I meant no offence! I think it is ironic that the Sanditon School will serve to educate your daughters, my Lord, but not your son! I look forward to knowing you all. Good evening!”  
We wandered onto the street and were a block from the Crown before we spoke.  
“I have now been supplanted as the biggest ass in Sanditon, Babers!” said Crowe “Thank you for hiring him!”  
Babington colored. “Go ahead and say it, Sidney! I can tell you think very little of him on first exposure also!”  
“I expected a grandfatherly type, honestly. Or even another Reverend Hankins. I withhold making a judgment until my children experience him in action. Perhaps, Babers, we just caught him by surprise!”  
“I wonder.” he said, mulling over the impromptu meeting.

When I arrived home I sat in the library trying to decide to excuse myself to write and I was just enjoying being where you all were, when a part of the conversation between Gabby and Joe registered.  
“You and Ben and Michael can sleep in here for a few weeks, by the fire! It won’t be forever!”  
“But I do not want a girl to sleep in my bed!” said Joe stubbornly. His arms were crossed over his chest and the expression on his face was stormy. “Not now! Not ever!”  
I glanced at Charlotte who refused to meet my eye because she could tell the comment made me smirk. Oh Joe, I thought, in about ten years I will remind you that you said that!  
“Why would you expect him to give up his bed, Gabriella?”  
“Mr and Mrs Crowe are going back to the continent on a buying trip for the Emporium and the girls are going to stay with us for those few weeks! Right Mama?”  
“Yes, Sidney! I told Dulcey the girls would be most welcome while she and Francis had a bit of a second honeymoon and the children are discussing sleeping arrangements, not trusting me to make sure everyone will be happy!”  
“Joe, trust Mama to work it out! You guys go get ready for bed and we will come in to tell you goodnight in a few minutes.”  
The children trooped from the room, Grace carried a sleepy Jane who blew her Papa a kiss from the door. I caught it quite dramatically and put it in my pocket.

Charlotte said, “I hope you do not mind that I agreed to keep the Crowe girls without discussing it with you first.”  
“Charlotte that is fine with me! I am glad they are traveling again. I just am sorry we never go anywhere! Are you very disappointed?”  
“I am glad to travel in my armchair,” said she. “And I kind of agree with Joe! I want to sleep in my own bed at night.”  
I did smirk at her then and she retorted, “I do not have a problem with the man who sleeps in my bed, either!”  
“Charlotte Heywood Parker! That comment sounds almost scandalous!”  
“If I’m honest at any given time there is Ben and Joe, Michael and Randy, Barker Parker and…you!”  
I laughed out loud, because it was true.  
“We will work out something,” I said. “Will we not shock the little girls too badly after the exposure to us over the course of several weeks?”  
“I sure hope so! Then again, maybe our children will pick up a few elements of perfection!” said Charlotte.  
Heavens, I hope not!  
So here I am, in the middle of the night, writing to you, my children, after a day when I am so proud to say that even the youngest among you (Yes, Jane Loving, you!) have a wonderful sense of sharing and love.

Many adults do not have this innate sense of kindness and many of them simply pretend to have it. If once they did, they have forgotten it. I know this was true for me at one time. I did not care about other people or what they thought. Ask your Mama if you must, I had no problem telling her once that I did not care what she thought or how she felt, as a matter of fact, I told her, I did not think of her at all!  
Thank God it made her so mad that she determined she would figure me out!  
Tonight, I met the new headmaster of your school and I am less than impressed with his lack of kindness. I can only hope he saves his best behavior for the students in his school and I hope my next exposure to Mr Renfroe will be more positive when next I meet him.

Keep your kindness, my children. When it is hard, when it is undeserved and makes no sense that you should, be kind. It will serve you well. You will see my failure should anyone ever threaten you in any way, but even when you are sorely tempted to be snide, be kind if you can be.  
And get ready, because Cathy and Connie Crowe are going to try you all in every way possible when they are here with us. If you can make it through the next few weeks by treating the two of them with kindness you will all be well on your way to making this a permanent quality for life.

I love you my children, and I hope you all will sweetly dream of a great tomorrow.

Papa


	4. Chapter 4

6 February

It was like a stone in my boot. 

If a rock is big enough, you sit down take off your boot, throw away the offending gravel and move on.  
Sometimes, though, you pull off your boot. Then you shake it and return it to your foot realizing it is still there, niggling away in such an irritating way that nothing will do until you stop and give the situation your full attention.  
That fellow Renfroe, the headmaster for the school, he just feels wrong, somehow. I am not a man that necessarily leads with my feelings. I end up, there though, with a major feeling in my gut that simply will not be ignored. It is how I end up inviting myself to late morning tea at the vicarage.

I began at the beginning, relaying the whole of the unexpected meeting to Reverend Hankins. I ended the review of that first conversation with the new man and how very much it bothered me that there was no warmth or kindness apparent in him.  
“Do you trust your friend, Lord Babington?” he asked.  
“Without hesitation and absolutely!” I responded.  
“The school was the last and best legacy of the late Lady Denham! You must believe that Lord Babington scoured the whole of England for those most qualified to lead it! Perhaps the three of you simply met him after a day of hellish travel or after an ill stomach brought on by the Crown’s famous dish of prawns! Give him the benefit of the doubt unless you have an absolute reason to challenge his authority,” he counseled.  
“Yes…yes! You are right! I looked at him and envisioned my children gleaning life lessons from him and it made my heart sink. I made a split-second judgment and I know those impressions can be wrong!”  
I was almost to my office at the Emporium before I acknowledged to myself that the irritating ‘stone’ in my mind was still there, regardless of the Reverend’s good counsel.  
I decided I must put it out of my mind until I see Babers again. I will discuss it with him, and I know he will have answers.

Crowe and Arthur were making their lists of supplies and items that the inventory suggested sold well and they leave for France on the morrow.  
Willis was in the middle of a large candy order to be supplied by a confectioner in London. 

There were few customers in the store on this February morning and I sat at my desk composing a letter to Babers.

Greeting from home to you and the family, Babs!

I keep mulling over our conversation with Mr. Renfroe,  
and I wonder if you might share his credentials with me  
so that Charlotte and I can give the children a rosy picture  
of what their school might be like.  
You all are sorely missed in Sanditon! We look forward to  
your swift and safe return.  
S. Parker

I returned home to find the library converted into a school room and Gabby and Grace were writing words on a slate attempting to teach Randy to read the words.  
On the rug, Barker Parker sat paying rapt attention and Jane rubbed his back with one hand while, as always, sucking the thumb on the other hand.  
“Look, Randy,” said Grace. “You know what the letters sound like! Just say what you think it is!  
C-A-T…”  
Randy looked at her blankly and Gabby grabbed the chalk, sketching the head of a small cat.  
“Lion!” shouted out Randy, pleased with himself.  
“Really, Randy! You are not concentrating! What is the sound a ‘C’ makes?” said Grace. Her patience seemed thin skinned and I wondered how long they had been ‘playing school’.  
Jane piped up, “CAT!”  
“That is right, Jane Loving!” said Gabby, “Good for you!”  
Randy stood up. “I quit this school! Jane Loving is a baby and you do not know how to teach a big boy how to read! I will be six next week and Ben will help me! Besides,” he added, with frustration boiling over, “Mama said I would read when I am ready!”  
He stomped from the room, kissing my knee as he passed me in the doorway, “Hullo, Papa! The girls have tortured me ALL day!”  
I raised my eyebrows at my lovely girls positioned with their slates by the fire, sitting on stools with every look of the school marms about their countenance.  
“Papa, does this even look like a lion?” asked Gabby.  
“Yeah,” said Grace. “Randy seems very smart, but I think he was just guessin’!” said Grace.  
“Well, girls, Randy is very smart. You cannot just MAKE him read! I believe he is a little young yet, and I do not want you to put him off from the idea of school before he ever attends! Come give your Papa a hug! I find that I am sorely neglected.”  
Charlotte walked in and took Jane Loving from my arms.  
“Girls, might you go set the table for Sara? She could really use your help today,” said Charlotte.  
“Hello my dearest love!”  
I pulled her to me, still in my coat and pressed my forehead to hers as has always been our habit. Into this tight space Jane Loving pressed her little face, kissing us both with sloppy passion.  
“Run and play, my darling! You might find Randy and see if a game of explorer might set his day on the right path,” said I, as Charlotte put her down on the floor.  
When we were alone, I kissed her, and she giggled. “Jane’s slobbery kisses do add an unexpected, but very sweet…challenge to our hellos, don’t they?”  
“Hello, Charlotte…”  
“Mmmm…Hello my dearest love!”  
When she stepped back from me, I felt forlorn for a moment, for I am always more solid when her arms surround me.  
“I see you walked into the Windswept classroom when you came home! The girls really put Randy through everything related to school they might imagine this afternoon and the older boys fled to the upstairs of the carriage house where they remain!”  
“He was miserable when I intervened, and I think Gabby and Grace believed they would teach him to read over the course of one or two hours!” I related. Picking up the slate I showed her the picture of the cat and the careful lettering ‘C-A-T’ beside it.  
“Well, honestly?” said Charlotte with a giggle, “That looks like a lion to me!”  
“Exactly what our son said, but he was totally crushed when Jane responded, “Cat” and Randy declared he is quitting their school, never to return.”  
“Here is what prompted their efforts! It arrived in the morning post and caused me to panic, a little, on behalf of our children.”  
She handed over the folded vellum and I read:

‘Dear Mr and Mrs Parker,  
Please know that the Sanditon School will welcome all eligible students who arrive at the school next September who are already able to read and write their letters.  
Younger students as well as those decidedly behind in their capabilities, will be added to classrooms in November after the students have been assessed and placed into groups by their teachers.  
Please know, although every child over the age of five years old will be welcome in our school, I must insist that they follow my rigorous policies of discipline and arrive ready to learn.  
Please see to this as it is your responsibility as their parents. I will broker no interference once your student(s) are entrusted to my care.’  
Regards,  
Callum Renfroe, Headmaster 

“Whoa! That is a rather imperious missive! I can see why it might incite panic, Charlotte, but our children will be fine! They know how to behave, they all are inquisitive and forthright! They will be successful. I know it.”  
“Did you show this to Sara?”  
“She got her own letter,” said Charlotte “and went to find Wells because she was unable to read the letter with understanding! I know her boys will be challenged. I had hoped our children ‘playing school’ might be helpful to them all.”  
The Crowe girls came later this afternoon and the remaining discussion revolved around our older boys building a club house in the carriage house.Their plan to sleep there with no intention of the girls being allowed to enter.  
“Oh my, Charlotte! The girls will take great offense, if for no other reason, than they are excluded.”  
I decided to check on my sons and find out, first hand, just what the rules of the clubhouse might be.  
“Halt! Who goes there!” called a voice as I started up the stairs.  
“Your Papa!”  
“You may enter ‘cause you are a boy,” Joe answered “But no girls except Mama!”  
The large room was divided by three pallets, a small table and a chess set. There were several books stacked up in one corner, a lantern along with some drawing supplies and a bird nest.  
“While the Crowe girls are here,” said Ben “We will live up here until tea time and supper and they can embroider their doll clothes and what ever else without making us play their stupid girl games!”  
“Yea!” said Micheal, “And we do not hafta pretend they are our teachers neither!”  
They soldiered up in front of me, defensive and defiant.  
“Where is the pallet Randy will sleep on? Are you not willing to save him from so much exposure to the girls?”  
“Papa! He is a baby! This club House is only for us big boys!”  
“Randy and I will come up here with you three after dinner and I will give him the choice to sleep here or not, but during the day you must not exclude him because he is younger than you. That is not a fact he can change and you must let him know he is welcome! I can not imagine he wants to model bonnets or play with the girls any more than you do!”  
“Yes, Papa!” they agreed, reluctantly.

By the time I returned to the house, I realized that I might be required to sleep up in the carriage house on the floor myself. The thought that I would ache for days if I slept up here for three weeks made my stomach flip with dread and I thought I might find a more appealing solution and I put the problem in Charlotte’s lap when she finished reading a story to Jane.  
“Perhaps Randy would prefer a pallet in our room if he finds life in the Carriage House club house too daunting?’ she offered. “I see no reason for you to give up your own bed… not even for one night!”  
“Thank you, Charlotte.”

So, the Crowe girls settled in and were welcomed with kindness by all. That the boys appeared only when enticed by food was to be expected but they welcomed Randy to the club. Tonight, though, he came back to the house under the guise of checking on Charlotte. When he crawled happily onto the padded bedding by our fire where he fell asleep, I realized I would sleep on the floor of Charlotte’s room most happily if it were required of me, but I was not willing to spare six pence for the privilege of sleeping on the floor in the carriage house clubhouse or anywhere else without her.

Our numbers have increased by two little girls so well behaved that their presence is hardly noticeable. My children are sleeping all over Windswept and Barker Parker is delighted to have so many little groups of children to visit. 

I am able, in just a moment to climb into my bed and will do so most happily. I am amazed that this seems like such a great triumph.

My children have patience with your Papa! There is not much I am reluctant to do for you all, however giving up my sleep by your mother’s side is not a point of negotiation!

I promise to follow up on the details of Sandition School so none of you will not have any question about what the expectations for each of you will be. Rest assured that your mama and I believe your school days will be some of the favorites of your life. I met Lord Babington and Mr Crowe when I was in school and they have become my friends for life.

There will be much to look forward to in the days ahead. Sleep well, my children, I love you.  
Papa


	5. Chapter 5

15 February

The late winter warmth disappeared into a crust of rim ice and frigid winds. The carriage house fire burned out and about 4 o’clock this morning Randy was forced from his prime spot in front of our fireplace by three freezing older brothers determined to absorb as much heat as possible as quickly as possible.

Charlotte came to nest closer to me as Randy climbed in our bed to spoon against her and the whistles and snores combined with the gales from the cliff to cause such profound wakefulness I realized I would just have to stare in the dark for the next few hours.  
The Crowe girls had demonstrated the proper way to drink a cup of tea, crooking their little fingers and silently ingesting a sugary mouthful without noise or clatter.  
This brought howling protests from my boys, Ben especially, as he pointed out the fact that he had been drinking tea “my whole life and as long as it is warm enough and I do not spoil my shirt then I deem my tea drinking a success!”

The fact that Cathy and Connie twittered behind their hands and stated how very funny they found Ben to be infuriated him beyond reason and he stomped out of the house, preferring to stride along the clifftops in the cold rather that be the subject of their study.  
It amused Charlotte that, like their father Francis, they were never put off, never dissuaded from their own opinions. They always, and with good nature, simply appeared to listen, without hearing, any point of view that might challenge their own perspectives. Their smiles were practiced and kind, they did not simper or flatter. They simply were positive of their own superiority. My children took this is stride as a fact of the oddity of the Crowe girls, and all but Michael, and Ben on occasion, were content to accept it and move own.  
Their apparent blasé attitude about ‘all things Parker’ vexed him. It should, in his ten year old opinion, be acknowledged by all within the very narrow sphere of Sandition, that his were the best Mama and Papa in the world, that his dog was the smartest, that his siblings, (in spite of their many failings which he would reiterate with very little encouragement) were the best of any brothers and sisters ever put on the earth. His demand that Connie and Cathy admit to the Parker superiority came to a head over a baking project under the supervision of Sara.  
Uncle James’ wooden boxes were being used as stools, a couple of chairs and a small set of stable steps were around the long trestle table in the kitchen.

The girls stood and stirred under the instruction of Grace who read the recipe. Gabby walked behind one and all, making sure their individual assignments were being performed correctly and the boys were simply eating the dough, tossing flour and being a complete team of nuisances in the process.  
Gabby squared up on Michael as I watched from the doorway.  
“Just keep being a total ninnie!” said Gabby “When the cookies are finished, you will only get to watch us eat them! You will have made the whole afternoon a testimony to your lack of control and none of us,” she said, gesturing around her, “think you are funny!”  
“Oh, I do not know,” said Cathy from the end of the table, “I think Michael is…enchanting!”

The entire kitchen stilled and Michael rounded on her at once.  
“You take that back, Cathy! I am not…what you said!”  
Cathy and Connie Crowe observed Michael placidly. Michael achieved a facial color that resembled a tomato and stood shaking from embarrassment and anger.  
Charlotte tried to intervene between the small blonde girls with their impeccable ringlets and Michael, who looked as far from an enchanted individual as might be imagined with flour on his shirt and a smear of butter on his chin.

“Make her apologize, Mama! Please!” he beseeched her, as though in pain.  
Charlotte said, softly, “Cathy paid you a compliment Michael! Say thank you and move on!”  
He stormed by me out the door before anyone else could see his frustrated tears and I followed to find him in the chilly air sitting on the rock wall looking out to sea. I sat next to him for a long moment without speaking.  
“How do cookies taste when made by an enchanting cook?”  
“PAPA! How can you tease me too?” he said, totally frustrated. “I cannot STAND her! It is simply not right that someone is nice all the time! It makes me…makes me sick!”

“You are giving her a lot power over you by appearing to be bothered so much! Just put the compliment, because your mother was right it was meant as one, out of your mind! Go back and finish the cooking project and show your brothers and sisters that you are not so easily ruffled the next time.”  
“Might you hold me Papa?”  
I gathered him to me and ruffled his hair. “You will never be too big for a hug from your Papa, Michael!”  
His hair smelled of sugar and sweat and cinnamon left clouds of brown stain on his shirt sleeves.  
“You were rude to Cathy and your Mama. I want you to go back inside, apologize to Mama and to Cathy and then forget it. I for one do not want to sacrifice a single bite of those cookies and I would stake my claim in the process, were I you!”  
“I will.” He stood to go back to the house, wiped his eyes and turned back. “Did it make you mad when mama said you were ‘enchanting’, Papa?”

My startled shout of laughter caused him to grin, in spite of himself!  
“Michael, I can honestly say your Mama, with great justification called me by a great many labels when first we met, but ‘enchanting’ was never on her list!”  
“Did you ever ignore her and just want her to go away?” he asked.  
“Oh Michael! That is a conversation for another day, I think. Suffice it to say, your Mama was made for me. She is the woman who loved me in spite of myself, and I am so grateful I could not ignore her.”  
“Oh fig!” he said with derision, “Why can’t every girl be like my Mama?”  
He gave me one last hug and ran off to the house, leaving me on the wall. I sat remembering all the labels Charlotte had laid at my feet, some with great justification. ‘Much Improved’ was as close as I ever got to ‘enchanting’, and that compliment from Charlotte had meant the world!

Tonight when the house was still and Charlotte was leaning against my chest before sleep, I said, “Do you think I am enchanting, Charlotte?”  
Her laughter was mostly a snort as she tried not to disturb Randy who was sleeping spread eagle in front of our fire on his pallet.  
She raised her head to look at me. “Sidney Parker! I was enchanted from the moment I saw you! You filled my mind, you pirated my heart! You made me so angry I could not control my tongue! You possessed me at once and the fight of those feelings took every iota of strength I had! Vexed, infuriated, flummoxed, exasperated, appalled…”  
“I got it, you despised me, and with good reason!”  
“And then, I did not! Lady Susan made me call it for what it was and if I am honest, I loved you and all your idiosyncrasies from the beginning. How deeply I was destroyed when I thought you were lost to me forever.”  
We both teared up then. Our story never ceases to touch our hearts, so easily might it have gone sideways, permanently! Thinking of this always pulls us back to reality whenever we are peevish with each other. We both know our love is simply…enchanted.  
“Sidney…”  
“Yes, Charlotte?’  
“Would you kiss me and tell me that there is nothing that will upset your for love me?”  
The alarm bells in my mind started ringing and I had no idea where this conversation might be headed.  
“I am perfectly content with our seven raucous darling children!” said she.  
“As am I, my love!”  
“I believed Jane Loving to be the baby of our hearts, always, but it is not to be!”  
“What?! What are you telling me Charlotte?”  
“You must prepare to stretch the ‘kingdom of Papa” for another inhabitant by the end of the summer! I had no clue and the last time I felt this way when pregnant, we ended up with triplets!”  
Of course, I cried!

My children, that there will be eight of you by the time five of you attend school delights me! I am quite sure we will handle whomever we are blessed with!

After Charlotte fell asleep, I got up to stir the fire, kneeling down to kiss Randy on his little head. He reached out to pat my face without ever opening his eyes. I looked in on you girls, sure that there were no angels sweeter, as you slept.

My children, as I write this night I think how easily we fit in two more little girls for a few weeks and I can hardly wait until another Parker arrives in August!  
The blessings of this day were sweet indeed! Cookies, compliments and a promised new baby!  
Sleep well, my Parker progeny! I love you, one and all!

Papa


	6. Chapter 6

1 March 

The past two weeks have been idyllic. You children have had no major skirmishes, save one, and the weather has begun a slightly warmer turn.

On the morning we told you all to expect a new baby you all were pleased but not especially delighted or surprised. Suddenly Jane Loving turned toward me with such an expression of desolation I was struck dumb! Her lip trembled and her eyes filled up before spilling over with raindrop sized tears that wet the front of her dress as she sobbed.  
I gathered her up and Charlotte hugged us both.  
“Dear Jane!” said Charlotte, “Whatever is the matter?”  
She wept as though she would never stop before she whispered, “Why are you and Papa trading me for another baby? Was I naughty? Don’t cha love me no more?”  
“Jane Loving! No one will ever replace you! We are not trading you and no, baby, you have never been naughty! No child, I promise you, has ever been more loved!” I said.  
She leaned back and looked at me skeptically, her eyes still full of tears and her sobbing breaths echoed through my chest surrounding my heart.  
“When we have the new baby you will become a big sister, like Grace and Gabby! It will be a big job, Jane Loving, and we know you will be wonderful!”  
“No thank you,” said she politely. “I does not want to be a big sister! I am the little sister!”  
She put both of her palms on my cheeks and touched my forehead with hers.  
“Please, Papa.” She was inches away from me looking me straight in the eyes and I had nothing! There was nothing I could say or do to ease the ache she felt.  
I felt like there were hot pincers in my heart, slowly tearing it away in strips, in ways I had never imagined. This child was as crushed as though she had been tossed aside and I could not stand the thought that I had in any way facilitated such hurt.  
I looked at Charlotte, holding Jane Loving like she was a lifeline.  
“Who will help me be the mama? I have many children Jane, and I know I will need extra help teaching this baby all about laughter and love and music and fun! If you will not help me, I do not know what I will do!”  
Jane leaned away from me to Charlotte and I held them both to me.  
“I will help you, Mama!”  
“Oh, sweetheart,” said Charlotte, “I am so very happy you will help me! I was most worried!”  
Jane looked at me with such love it took my breath away.  
“I going to take care of Papa, though! He might miss me!”  
I can honestly say, my children, that the love for you is so deep and so strong that nothing will ever challenge it, but until that moment I had never felt more valuable in my life!

Charlotte eased to her knees, releasing Jane so that she might rescue her doll from Barker Parker and the moment passed. It may be set aside for a moment, but I know it is not to be forgotten.

I walked to town, thinking about all the things that makes a person feel valued. I know that it is intrinsic to the worth of a man that love and respect are his. A family provides this. A wife surely does, when there is great love between them. It never occurred to me that I would not ever be able to give a child more than the child would give to me, but it was happening in my house every day. It was the most incredibly unexpected blessing of my life, sevenfold.

At the Emporium, a letter waited on my desk from Arthur.  
It read:

Dear Sidney,  
I will return to Sanditon on, or around the date of 10 April. With me is A L Perreti, the new doctor joining Hans. This is a most unexpected pleasure and I ask for you to send Jessup with the carriage to Dover to bring us to Sanditon, if at all possible.  
I know Hans and Diana will be most eager to welcome this fine addition to Sanditon, as will you.  
The hunt for acquisitions has been most successful and I know I can say it has been a most enjoyable trip. Thank you.  
Crowe sends regards and will return soon after.  
Regards, and love,  
Arthur

That was a bit odd, but I have no problem sending the carriage, The doctor probably had delicate equipment to transport and he, no doubt, would have many cases he did not wish to entrust to the removers.

I walked to Hans office to impart the contents of the letter and was a bit surprised when his first reaction was a chuckle.  
“Well, well!” he said, “An arrival that comes early bodes well for my project!”  
“That sounds rather cryptic,” I said, “Good Dr Fuchs, it sounds like you are engaging in an intrigue.”  
He shrugged his shoulders and then laughed out loud. “Yes, indeed! My project is working out nicely!”  
Before I could give too much thought to his project, James Stringer walked up to me on the street.  
“Well met, Sidney! You are just the man I wish to see!”  
From the inner pocket of his jacket he pulled a piece of rumpled paper and handed it to me with a big grin on his face.  
The paper read:

Dear Uncle James,  
We need your help with a project.  
We want to build a small shelter on our cove beach and a bench for our Mama to sit on while  
she watches us swim. We have enclosed a drawing.  
Might you let us know what this will cost and when we can start?  
From: Ben, Joe, Michael and R.  
Each had signed in their own hand and the 'R" was as much as Randy could manage.

The drawing was rather crude, but certainly effective.  
“Did you know about this, Sidney? How shall I proceed?”  
“It certainly is a good idea, but not anything I have ever heard them mention! What would it take to pull it off, James?”  
I have probably enough scraps to begin the process at once, but I like the idea of them figuring out the cost of materials and labor, although that would be my gift!”  
“No, no! Please do take a meeting with them and give them a solid price! I would like to see how inventive they become when raising funds comes into it. It will not be your gift! I do hope that scrap and unused materials might offset this ambitious undertaking!”

When I arrived home for tea, Randy was involved over a stack of papers by the fire in the library drawing with intense concentration. He did not glance up when I entered but in just a few moments, he came to me with a picture of Barker Parker and a bird the dog had treed in Sanditon Park.  
It was humorous and clever. I thanked him profusely.

“Where are your brothers this afternoon?” I asked.  
There was a long silence. Randy had not anticipated this question or did not remember what he had agreed to say. The truth won out.  
“They have walked down to the cove! They made me stay with the girls.”  
“Hmm! Is your mama with them?” I prodded.  
It was then he began to squirm a little. “Where might you put your picture, Papa?”

I pulled up short. On occasion my boys are creative with their sneaky moves, but the rule of the beach is no child goes there to play or paddle without an adult. Ever. To my knowledge no one in the family has ever ignored this rule. It is set in stone.

Dropping to my knees I said, “You must feel very badly about trying to trip up your Papa!”  
We were nose to nose and his lip began to tremble.  
I started to ask him if his Uncle James was with them but I realized James was just cresting the hill to the house. I could see him through the window behind Randy as he walked the tract to Windswept.  
“Stay here, son!" I walked out of the house and across the tract, covering the loggia in about four strides. When I looked over the wall, Ben, Michael and Joseph were playing on the beach and splashing in the waters edge beyond a diagram drawn on the sand like the one on Stringers drawing I had seen in town.  
It has been a long time since I was so outraged! Fear and fury combined to wash my mind with a toxic mix of what if’s and how dare they! The water in March is so cold that they would be unable to breathe should they fall in and wearing their heavy clothes they might drown while trying to save each other!  
I roared.  
“Boys! Up here right now! NOW!”  
Randy had run straight through the house for Charlotte and she met me on the loggia while the three culprits walked up the path. They had on their shoes, so there had been no obvious paddling and the fact that they were in deep trouble seemed to roll over them with every step closer to the top of the path.  
James sat on the steps of the front of the house, away from the five of us and I felt Charlotte’s hand tremble against my own hand clutched by my side. She had been the recipient of the tongue lashings that followed the times I lost my temper and I realized she was trying to buffer that temper as well as she could.

In those situations, I thought, if I had only grabbed her to me, allowing me to take a moment to understand her point of view the months of misunderstanding and anxiety would have never occurred regardless of how inappropriate that behavior might have been viewed by others.  
When the boys reached us, they stood in front of us looking at me.  
I stared them down, realizing they were terrified.  
Dropping to my knees I hugged them to me. My arms were full of boys. They were sweaty and sandy and trembling.  
“Do you have any idea what the loss of any one of you might do to me… to your Mama?”  
“No, Papa.”  
“Perhaps your reason for being at the cove is more important than our absolute rule that you never go there without an adult. That must be it!” My voice was low, a growl, but I was in control. I looked over at Charlotte and she was almost as terrified as were the boys.

The girls, including the Crowe two, were now standing in the doorway behind James Stringer.  
Ben spoke. “We are sorry Papa! We were only thinking of our great idea and did not even consider that we might do something wrong!”  
“That is true!” said Joe, quietly.  
“What he said,” added Michael.  
“Do you think that, now that you are ten and eleven, the rules do not apply to you? You reached an age, have you, where Papa and Mama should just not worry about the many ideas you might have!? There are three of you! Surely one of you will make right decisions that will save your brothers should your schemes go awry, right? What if Randy had decided to follow you and he had fallen in? Are you very sure you could pull him out safely, should you need to?”  
There was no defiance here, no lack of realization of what our fears as parents truly were.  
Michael said, “Papa, we just did not think! Can you ever forgive us?”  
“Let us all go have a cup of tea with your Uncle James and settle for a moment, thankful that you boys are alright. Sidney?” said Charlotte, “Shall I asked Sara to bring tea to the library?”  
I know my smile was tight lipped. I understood she was trying to avoid any further outburst, but the urge to pummel something was so great I could hardly breathe. A little hand clasped one of mine in both of hers and Jane said, “Papa come sit with me! I have been missing you!”  
When were seated in the library I realized I was supposed to be unaware for the reason of Stringer’s visit and I said, “Uncle James, what brings you to Windswept?”  
He good naturedly explained that he had come to discuss a building project the boys wished to build on the beach and he handed each of the three a paper on which he had added measurements and prices.  
Ben stood up and walked to the middle of the floor.  
“Uncle James, thank you for answering our note. We got so excited about our plan that we wrote to you before we talked to Papa or Momma. We would ask if you would let us do that and get back to you. I have a feeling,” he added sheepishly, “We are going to be dealing with some big trouble for awhile.”  
As is his habit, James offered no judgement on the situation at all and encouraged the boys to bring back one copy of the estimate which would serve as a contract. When they had a final decision, he promised he would bring Jamison up to help build it.  
I walked him to the door where he said under his breath, “I might have knocked their heads together! Every time I think that our two are a handful, I think of you and Charlotte!”  
He shook his head and clasp my hand. I went back to the library to find the girls had departed, leaving their brothers with Charlotte.  
“Tell me about this plan, then,” I said.  
Their excitement was infectious and in a few minutes we had talked the project through, from the cost (which would be minimal if they were willing to use Uncle James scraps) to the fact that it could be accomplished in record time so that the summer days might be spent as close to the water as possible.  
“The thing is,” said Joe, “I am thinking that we do not deserve to do our project now, Papa, right? Because we broke the rule we knew so well.”  
I opened my arms and in a moment, both knees had a boy upon them and Ben stood between my legs with his arms around me in a hug.  
“We are truly sorry we frightened you and Mama. Will you forgive us?” asked Joe quietly.

“We will. I do forgive you, boys, but the rule is there to protect you all, not hinder your fun. I want you to think about it for awhile and then we will discuss it again. I was and honestly, I am still, very angry. If anything happened to one of you do you honestly think we could ever build anything at the cove that would ever bring us joy if it came at the cost of the absence of one of you?”  
“No, Papa. We are sorry.”  
“Go on to the carriage house for the night, I will bring you something to eat later, but I think you all have much to consider.”

I put my head back against the chair and closed my eyes, waking only when Charlotte kissed me.  
“Charlotte! What if…”  
“But it did not. This time nothing happened! They will need reminding and their boyish jubilation will lead them into many more such situations before they are grown.”  
“I know it! You are right. It is the first time that they dared test my rules and I was mostly hurt that they no longer believe I may have rules that are more important than they can even imagine! It is not just enough to make the rules anymore, but to explain them and follow through with the reasons behind them.”

“There is a stable that will need mucking out,” said Charlotte, remembering her own parents and their disciplinary processes. “I have a flower bed that needs to be readied for spring. I also believe the three of them would benefit from the requirement that they do a project for someone else before they are able to work on a project for themselves.”

Later that evening, I found the four of them quite eager to dig into the basket of cheese, bread and pork pies I took to the carriage house for their supper.  
Randy was the most miserable of all. He had absolutely followed their instructions to distract me, but he had not gone to the beach. When pushed, he had told me the exact truth.  
“Randy, even small boys must face their mistakes and accept their discipline. When you have had enough to eat, go find your Mama. She is expecting you.” With Randy, Charlotte would discuss the winter weeds in the flower bed which required pulling.

I put the consequences in front of the three of them. In two days I wanted a plan that would involve them fulfilling a chore for another family, one would be helpful and require at least three days to accomplish.

They thought for a moment. “Perhaps Reverend Hankins will know where we might be of help," said Ben. "May we have permission to go speak with him?”  
“Absolutely,” I said. “I will even walk with you to see him tomorrow.”  
“Thank you, Papa”

Tonight, I sit in the study, attempting to make a faithful record of the day and realizing how little control I might have over the choices you make my children! I hope my rules are not harsh and I know my reactions might be when those rules are broken, but I cannot lose any of you!

I think of Jane Loving and her wondering if she might ever be replaced! Her worry shatters my heart!  
I need to remind you each, there is only one of you in the entire world! Nothing, and no one, will replace you or soothe our hearts should you be taken from us.  
How very deep is our love for you! 

Sweet dreams, and peace to your questioning hearts this night,

Papa


	7. Chapter 7

25 March

The boys and I made a call at the vicarage, only to find Mrs Hankins at home by herself. Reverend Hankins was out seeking relief from the apothecary for his aching hips and his hands. Challenged by arthritis and rheumatism, he managed to traverse the town several times a day in order to meet the needs of the members of his parish, without regard to his own discomfort.  
Reverend and Mrs Hankins knew everything there was to know about many people in the town and they shared only what would enhance the lives of their parish members.  
I really respected the fact that the two of them were willing to appear simple minded rather than spread gossip of any kind and could feign indifference when the details of a situation were known only to them. On good authority, I myself knew of many meals they had given away, eating broth instead at their own table. A bolt of precious wool from Scotland had been ordered and eagerly awaited by Mrs Hankins who described in great detail the dress she would make one day while she had tea with us at Windswept. I ordered the bolt for her.  
A couple of weeks later, I passed the fish monger on Front Street followed by his four teenaged daughters and realized every one of them had some aspect of that cloth sprucing up their clothes. One had a new dress, one a new spencer and another a shawl. I had never seen them so well turned out and I noticed Mrs Hankins still wore her older clothes.  
The Hankins were exactly what they seemed, and they lived their belief that their duty was to care for their flock, no matter what that might entail.

It was Ben who realized the boys might complete their consequential projects by working at the at the vicarage and Mrs Hankins was delighted. The boys would clean the out the attic, organize their old carriage house and pull the weeds around the church. They would begin tomorrow and work until their agreed upon chores were complete.  
As we were leaving, Ben said “Papa, Tuesday will be a good day to offer to the Hankins!”  
When he noted my puzzled expression, he added “I will come here every Tuesday afternoon and offer to be of service. Might that be acceptable to you and Mama?”  
“I think that would be a very kind thing to offer, Ben, but I want you to know it might not result in a job with pay and I would ask you to accept such only from me,” said I.

Joe and Michael helped complete the agreed upon chores, but only Ben returned, without my urging, to be of help to the Hankins any way he could.

I was delighted to put the anxiety of the afternoon at the cove behind us all and plans were made for James and Cousin Jamison to come put the beach shelter project in motion.  
The cove ended up with a new three-sided shelter with a roof and two outdoor benches with backs on which to sit. The boys were very proud of their efforts and I was very proud of their accomplishments.

“Charlotte, I am working my way out of a job! The boys are working so well without my help and I just noticed your flower bed is in immaculate shape! Soon they will not need their Papa at all, neither for guidance or censure!”  
“Sidney, I promise you, there will never be the moment in any day that we will not need you and I defy you to point out a single attribute those boys have not received from watching their dear Papa seek all the ways he might live as a good man.”  
“Hmmm. Nice of you to say so, Charlotte.”  
I was a bit distracted as I watched the new pair of welsh ponies that were munching hay in the back garden. Wells Jessup had built a little pen and the ponies with their little cart had appeared as a gift for Randy and for Jane for their birthdays which were last week and next week respectively, from Susan and Graham.  
Randy’s pony promptly bit him when he arrived and Jane Loving looked at me with wide uncertain eyes before asking, “Does I want a pony, Papa?”  
The children were a bit leery of the gift, but I knew once they grew to know the ponies and their habits, both of them would love them.

“What shall we name your ponies, children? Maybe they will feel more at home if they know they are officially Parkers!”  
Randy picked the name ‘Happy’ at once.  
“Happy Parker is a bit twee Randy!” said Ben. “How about ‘Valiant’ or ‘Magic’ or something more fierce?”  
“Shhh!” said Ben, “If he thinks he is happy maybe he won’t bite me again!”  
I did note, after studying the little pony, that he was an equal opportunity biter and a name was not going to make much difference.  
“My pony will be ‘Mini Drifta’,” said Jane Loving thoughtfully, “And she will be proud for me to love her!”  
I might mention that Drifter, the tall black horse I often ride, in no way resembled the little pony but Jane was sure there was no better name for a pony, so Happy and Mini D were now members of the family. One pony at a time could pull the little cart, and since Jane insisted on braiding Mini’s mane and tail with he help of Gabby and Grace, Randy was left to explore the tract alone, sitting in the little cart with a firm grip on the reins.  
I walked beside the pony’s head and Randy, very proud at six years old to be in complete control, sat up straight to guide the pony as he walked the tract between Sanditon House and home again.  
The pony pulled very well, following the simple voice commands that Randy uttered with comfort, if a little loudly, and I relaxed thinking that Jane would require a little more effort before I would feel comfortable with her controlling the reins.  
About half way home, pony corral in sight where the girls were still braiding pony hair, Randy flicked the reins and Happy took off at a gallop. So quickly did he pull away that I could not grab the bridle and the cart careened toward the girls as if being pulled by a dervish.  
Charlotte scooped up Jane to get out of the way and Gabby and Grace scattered in opposite directions.  
“Whoa, whoa!” called Randy hysterically, “Please Happy, WHOA!”  
The pony ran off the tract into the woods directly under the branches of a tree, coming to a stop after being tangled in the lower limbs. Randy was scraped backwards from the cart and landed like a brick on his right shoulder.  
He lay quite still, stunned, and Charlotte and I reached him in tandem.  
“Mama! I think I am killed,” Randy cried, and he relaxed, closing his eyes in a faint.  
“I believe he has injured his collar bone from the looks of things and maybe his ankle! Could you send Jessup to town for Hans and then help me keep him very still. When he awakens it will be to great pain and I do not want him to thrash about!” said Charlotte. She was calm and patted my arm with assurance.  
“Gabby! Please go hand me the wool blanket inside the kitchen door! Grace? Might you take Jane Loving into the library?” She was in complete control and I could not seem to breathe.  
The boys came running and I sent Ben on a sprint for the Jessup house while Joe, Michael and I tried to extract the terrified pony from the tree and set him free into the pen. As Jessup left for town on the mare, Ben knelt beside his younger brother on the turf.  
Randy’s eyes began to flutter and his popped open with fear.  
“Hey Pal! That was some ride! Where did you learn to steer like that? Just be real still, ‘cause Mama and Papa and all of us are right here and you are gonna’ be just fine! Papa put Happy back in the pen and your pony is just fine, though he’s feeling like a ninny for hurting my brother…. Just be real still…’  
It was a gift that Ben could chatter. I was not sure I could even speak and Charlotte’s confident assessment of the situation had melted away as she realized her baby boy was crushed and hurt on the ground.  
We simply looked at each other and I would have given any thing to change places with my child. I put my hand on Randy’s ankles and he groaned in pain until I removed my hand.  
We sat, able to only watch our child suffer and listening to Ben prattle comfortingly to his brother, until we heard Hans and Jessup returning.  
A quick examination from Hans confirmed the snapped collar bone and he removed Randy’s shoes to display a badly swelling ankle.  
“Ah mein kleiner Neffe! You will be awright! Very sore though!”  
He straightened out the little body feeling the collar bone and moving the arm by the elbow until he felt it fall into place. Randy’s stoic face did not hint of the pain he felt but he wept with enormous tears that fell silently from his face to the dirt around his head. After binding the arm against Randy’s chest, Hans nodded and I picked up my child, taking him into the library through the kitchen door.  
A small draught of some herbal elixir allowed Randy to nod off while Hans wrapped his ankle in a bandage.  
“He must stay still--away from the pony cart-- for a couple of weeks! Perhaps the girls can read to him. His right arm will not feel like drawing or writing for a long while. I will check on him again soon! I know Diana will wish to accompany me when I return tomorrow.”

Sara fed the children allowing Charlotte to sit with me by Randy until he woke up several hours later.  
“Hi Mama, Papa…is Happy okay?” he whispered.  
“Yes, and he is very sorry you were hurt while he was acting so naughty!” said Charlotte, softly.  
“Please do not be upset with Happy, Mama. I will get it right the next time.”

When he fell back to sleep, Charlotte looked at me archly before leaving the room to fetch a pot of tea.  
“Sidney… if I could, I would…grrrr” she said, trying to express her frustration.  
“I know, Charlotte,” I responded, “Short of making a horsehair foot stool out of the rascal, what do we do? Give him away? Randy would be heartbroken!”

So, now I am the father of a boy of six, who looks as though his service in a calvary unit did not work out so well. I am the papa of another child content to change the hair style of her own pony and may never ride again. I have work to do, children! Ponies and horses are just who they are until love and respect becomes mutual. You are awfully young to learn these lessons, but Randy has done so today.  
Perhaps the loan of the pony cart might be of help to the Vicar! It was a thought. I have learned not to make decisions when I am distraught, so I will have to wait for a day or two until my heart quits aching for Randy.

My dear children! If this day was any indication of the great equine adventures in store for us in the days to come, I may have to hire a riding teacher. That sounds like a better course of action than making pony hair furniture! I think you will all agree.  
Sleep well my children. Tonight, I am eager to just sleep this day into memory.  
I wish you all sweet dreams.  
Papa


	8. Chapter 8

1 April

James and Allison came to visit Windswept for tea and to bring some cheer to Randy. They brought a wooden box that contained several carved horses, a trough, a cow and a pig with several blocks representing hedgerows and walls. Randy’s boredom ceased at once as the rug by the fire became Windswept Farm.  
A worker for James had carved the little farm animals and Randy made up stories for the animals and their new home.

It was from Alison on this visit, that we heard of another visit of the school staff in Sanditon. The Renfroes, as well as two of the teachers, would live in several of the upstairs suites at Sanditon house as part of the contract Lord Babington worked out for them. They had returned to town to finalize the extensive plans for the renovations required for turning the gracious old house into a functioning house of education. 

The frolicking nymphs in the drawing room had been painted over leaving walls of grey, cream and blue. The drawing room, now showing only hints of the former glory of Lady Denham’s heyday was completely transformed after an enormous rug was thrown down over the serpent hiding it from view on the floor.  
Babington and his family will return in late May and he will oversee the last of the arrangements before the educators move in in June. They would have about 90 days before their school opened after that and the children were growing excited.  
I was a bit alarmed when I heard that Renfroe was having many of Lady Denham’s books crated and stored in the attic allowing him to take over the library space for his office, leaving extensive instructions for the hanging of hunting trophies numbering more than 50.  
We listened to these plans and Charlotte said, “What small child will not be intimidated into good behavior by sitting on a bench in a darkened room filled with dead animals?”  
I had no answer for her, just the rising dread of this school coming to our neighborhood where the minds of all our children would be molded in spite of what we might think about the methods the members of the staff might use for doing so.

On the same afternoon a letter came from the Crowes who were swinging through Portugal on what would be the last leg of their journey. They would arrive back in Sanditon several days after the arrival of Arthur and the medical professional he was traveling with. Crowe mentioned his interest in discussing the future of the Emporium.  
I felt a bit caught, for I know I have had very little to do with the day to day of my own business, happily placing the trust in Willis and others, for the care and keeping of our original purpose. I sure hope he was not inclined to quit, for I had already grown dependent on his willingness to act as buyer and inventory chief.  
Honestly, I loved the late mornings at home, padding around barefooted while my children started another day and my wife helped me enjoy another pot of tea. I knew by the end of the summer, our lives would change again, perhaps forever and I abhorred the idea of anything that would disrupt this rather lazy bliss of which I had grown accustomed. I knew I must have some sort of income beyond my investments and I began casting about for something new that would hold my interest.  
After the fifth lesson on the violin by John Riley, I was prompted to outfit the upstairs of the carriage house with music stands and a comfortable armchair or two. Ben was inclined toward percussion and the thought that someone was practicing something that would make noise more than three hours a day in our house made Charlotte a bit tense even though she was encouraging to the musicians within.  
Michael and Joe could make their violins screech like an owl singing a duet with a wounded hawk and Ben would keep time with such concentration that the rhythm was quite lost in the cacophony. Grace and Gabby were content to play a tin whistle or an Irish flute and were quick to say they had not ‘settled’ on the choice of an instrument.

“Do you remember those days when the only thing we could hear up here on the hill was the varying amounts of wind blowing up from the beach or through Sanditon Park and the occasional call of a hawk hunting on the cliff?” I asked Charlotte.  
She smiled. “John Riley suggested a pianoforte for the girls, and I promised to run the idea by you before mentioning it to either of them. The instrument would have to go in our drawing room and could not be hauled up to the second floor of the carriage house.”  
I groaned. “No musical instruments will ever be allowed in my study, ever!”  
She giggled.  
“Why is that so funny, Charlotte?”  
“You and I both know full well that should one of the children say they could get the best from their music lessons by standing up on your desk in the study, that you would help them climb up and stay as the audience!”  
“Am I really such a pushover?” I asked, defensively.  
She cocked one eyebrow at me and then rose on her toes to kiss me.  
“I think, Mr Parker,” she whispered against my mouth, “You are most formidable in every respect!”  
“Hmmm. Well then!” I answered, happily.  
“Well then, indeed!” she said, with a plethora of cheek. She left the room with a smile on her face and I never gave her an answer about the piano…or maybe I did.

The piano arrives next Tuesday and there has been much discussion about the placement of the instrument facing a wall or a window and the best light by which to read music. I have yet to hear from anyone which of the children will play upon it. For some reason my girls just laughed when I suggested if they play, I will sing.  
We have all stopped waiting hand and foot on Randy. We were ensconced by the fire reading books and enjoying the quiet before bedtime when he stood up and walked over to the table on which Grace had forgotten his little wooden cow. He walked back to the cozy pallet nest he had been sitting in since the accident and proceeded to set up his farm.  
Before I could comment, Ben said, “You are walking quite well, Randy! I for one, am glad you are able to fetch your own chamber pot!”  
Randy grinned rather sheepishly, “I do not mind!” Ben walked over and ruffled his hair beginning to set up the fencing and hedgerows.  
To my knowledge, Randy could not put weight on his foot at all and Charlotte has been acting as his personal assistant since the accident.  
“Perhaps tomorrow we can check on Happy, Papa? I would like to take him a carrot and say hello.”  
“We certainly will, Randy! How is your shoulder?”  
“It is not so well, yet Papa! Uncle Hans said it might take as long as 6 weeks to heal.”  
I stood to carry Jane Loving to her bed. She had fallen asleep while I was reading and was drooling against my shoulder contentedly.  
The Crowe girls had finished their card game with the older girls and Joe and Michael put away their puzzle.  
Charlotte placed Randy by the fire in our room and the house seemed to settle into silence, breathing a sigh of relief that another day had passed without unnecessary angst or drama.  
“Sidney,” said Charlotte, “I am so content to sit happily on our hill and so pleased when the day is over to fall asleep in your arms. I appreciate this life without too much worry, these days when everything is just ‘fine.’ There are blessings in quietness that I never appreciate until I see a pony cart careening toward the woods or naughty boys walking by themselves up the beach path and realize how quickly things might fall apart!”  
I leaned over to gather her into my arms and felt the first stirring backflip of the newest Parker under my hand. Charlotte giggled.  
“Well, hello there, Baby Parker!... Charlotte, is it a son or a daughter?”  
“Yes,” she replied and smiled as I hugged her. “No doubt the babe will be one or the other!”  
She fell asleep smiling happily, curled into her pillow with the relaxation that always follows her after a full and contented day.

So here I am, my children, writing deep into the night, with the thought that I feel a profound relief in Randy’s somewhat easy healing and the fact that spring is here in all its glory.  
Good night, my little ones, rest well as you store up energy for another day!  
Can a house really be too quiet?  
Papa

10 April

Arthur returned today and The Parker clan was awaiting the carriage at Hans and Diana’s front door. Tom and Mary had walked over from Trafalgar House and Diana was walking toward us on the street when the carriage was heard on the approach.  
Before it seemed to stop completely, Arthur opened the door and jumped down to the ground. His faced was wreathed in smiles and Diana embraced him warmly, as did we all. When he turned back to the carriage, he reached up his hand to take the gloved fingers of the extended hand from the carriage while saying,  
“I’m delighted to introduce Dr A. L. Perretti,” said Arthur happily, “my wife!”  
From the depths of the carriage stepped a woman so striking we all made a single gasp. She was almost as tall as Arthur with black hair coiled neatly about her head. She had an angular almost boyish face until she smiled revealing to us all the beauty she truly was.  
With a lilting Italian accent she said, “You must be Diana! And Tom and Sidney! Please call me Lucianna!”  
She then greeted Mary and Charlotte before turning to Hans. He reached her shoulder as she towered above him and after greeting her warmly Hans said, “My dear Dr Lucy! I see you have married your escort!”  
She blushed and we all laughed, Arthur held her fingertips as though she were the most precious piece of treasure and we all entered the Fuchs’ house for a bit of lunch. To say that I was overwhelmed with delight for my brother would be an understatement. I listened as Tom and Diana talked over each other to glean details and history of their meeting.  
I clasped Charlotte’s hand beneath the table, happy to know that should Arthur feel only a quarter of the great love Charlotte and I feel for one another, he will be blessed indeed.

“I never thought I was interested in a marriage,” said Arthur, “or how it might work! I met Lucy six weeks ago at a sale in Rome where I was supposed to meet A. L. Perretti and I knew my life would never be the same.”  
“Crowe stood up with us! He did not tell you, did he Sidney? I swore him to secrecy! We wanted to marry so all of Lucy’s family might surround us and he was my nearest and dearest connection to all of you! Dulcey and Lucy have become close, and I knew she would be most happy here once she met all of you, her new family,”  
Arthur appeared to be svelte and calm. He was a jovial as ever, but the ‘hole’ that seemed to be in his proverbial bucket for all those years after my parents died when he was so young, seemed to be filled by this remarkable woman who seemed to appreciate his personality and his eternal joie de vivre.  
At that point in our family gathering, Lucy sat next to Arthur and the expression on her face was so replete with love and admiration, Charlotte poked me in the ribs.  
“Lucy is a very happy woman,” said she under her breath, “I know all the signs, you know.”  
“My family comes from a long line of doctors and medically oriented individuals and there is not a strangeness in Italy about my being a woman. So, we will see if the people of Sanditon will welcome me,” said Dr Perretti. “But if Arthur will allow me to add ‘Parker’ to my last name, my acceptance will be insured.”  
“My dear Lucy,” said Arthur, “I thought you already had!”  
“For the sake of records, might I stay ‘Dr Perretti’ for all thing medicinal….and Mrs Parker for every other aspect of my life?”  
Mary answered with Charlotte, “I highly recommend that!” they said in unison. Everyone laughed as they both blushed and Tom toasted all the Mrs Parkers with his water glass.  
Later in the afternoon, we returned to Windswept with the news of a new aunt and a new physician in town, eager to tell the children.  
“Wow!” said Ben. “Sounds like we need to plan a party! When Mr and Mrs Graham come back for the summer, let’s invite them to come up for the music and have one of our great parties instead!”  
I think this is a wonderful idea and I left the children putting the details together for the party with their Mama. Content to make record of this day I am still as delighted as I have ever been on Arthur’s new bride and I can not wish them enough happiness.

Tonight, as you sleep my children, I am thinking that Arthur has proved that declaring absolutes often involve words that you must eat later.  
Your Uncle Arthur declared himself to be a lifelong bachelor! We all believed he knew his heart and were not willing to refute it, but here he is with a new bride that two years ago he could not even imagine.  
My hope is that each of you have such loving and surprising days in your own lives! Who knew Lucy was waiting for Arthur! We have much to celebrate in the next days.

As always, I celebrate my love for each of you. Good night,

Papa


	9. Chapter 9

15 April

When I returned to the Emporium this morning, I found Arthur giving Lucianna a tour of the store. Her hair was coiled on top of her head except for the length tied back like the tail of Mini D. Jane Loving would be thrilled to see such hair! It hung to her waist in a silken coil. Her eyes danced as Arthur talked and she encouraged him to fill her in on the details of many mundane items. She would repeat many of the descriptions Arthur tried in both Italian and English, but Lucianna only spoke in English as she worked on her language skills.

Arthur would gesture and speak with his hands and yet, unaware that anyone was watching, their hands entwined effortlessly when his stilled. They were simply an unexpectedly splendid couple and I was so very pleased for Arthur’s good fortune.  
When I entered my office, I found Graham, his feet on my desk, reading the Sanditon newspaper.  
“‘Runaway Pony Cart Halted By Tree’.” He read, “Young Randolph Parker has found his adventuresome spirit limited by a broken collar bone and a badly sprained ankle after his pony cart careened into a tree on top of the cliff walk as he departed Sanditon Park…’ shall I read on?”  
“After not seeing me for almost four months, do you really want to sit in my office and read from the newspaper?”  
Graham leaped to his feet and grabbed me into a hug. “How are you Sidney? Sounds like a bit o’ struggle with the wee ponies we sent!”  
“The children love the ponies, but I will admit the manipulation of the ponies is beyond the horsemanship of either of the children at this point! Jane would rather just braid her pony’s mane and tail, and Randy? He is going to need to be sold into the merits of driving is own rig before he attempts it again!”  
Graham sobered. “I jes’ hate he was hurt! I bet Charlotte had a lot to say on that event!”  
“If I remember correctly, she growled!” I responded honestly.  
“Yes, well, I shall send mi’ Lady Susan in to manage the fallout from that! I will however work with the wee ones with the cart so the bairns leave their fears at the stable!”  
“I would really appreciate the help, friend! Have you met Arthur’s bride?”  
Graham whistled low, under his breath. “Her beauty hits a man right in the kilt and then I heard her speak and was simply overwhelmed, were I, by her smarts! Why,” he added, surprised, “she is as impressive as Susan or Charlotte, and I was convinced we had the finest two wives in the country!”  
“She does seem devoted to him and I could not be happier for my little brother! We want to have a welcome party for them the very first night we can hold a musical evening on the cliffside loggia! I hope I can depend on you to play the pipes and tell a few tales!”  
He simply laughed. As he stood to go, he turned around and said “Susan received the missive from the children and included was a note from Charlotte. Congratulations, Sidney, on the new babe to come!”  
It was at this point that Arthur and Lucy were also standing in the door to the office and Arthur blushed before saying, “Charlotte is with child? Congratulations! I told Lucy that you and Charlotte were such great parents that having a dozen seems within the realm of possibility!”

I chuckled. “Don’t let Charlotte hear you voice that opinion, or she may stand on a chair to better get the angle right for thoroughly boxing your ears! As a matter of fact, Arthur, you and I might both be about the right size for her hitting us in the head with a chair!”  
Everyone laughed, but I realized that that I knew a dozen children were decidedly not on her list, regardless of how darling they all might be.  
Conversation turned toward the mundane and the musical. We all explained the novelty of a music night on the cliffs to Lucy and her delighted expression let me know she would be a happily welcomed addition to our evenings.

Before the morning was over, I had managed a little paperwork and welcomed back Francis Crowe before the afternoon’s end.  
He informed me that Dulcey had gone to Windswept to pick up the girls and he would join them soon for tea. He hoped we might walk the hill together and talk.  
“Look, Crowe, I sure hope you are not about to tell me you quit! I really can not imagine what I would do without you, so very dependent have I become on you and Arthur to steer this ship!”

“That is what I want to discuss, Sidney. I have talked to Arthur and he had a long conversation with Diana. I want to buy you out! I believe this is a great life for my family and the best I can tell, you are casting about for the next ‘thing’ in your life. Let this be the catalyst for finding whatever it may be!”  
I was dumbstruck by the idea, my children, and more than a bit thrilled by the thought! Before we could make an agreement, we arrived at Windswept where Crowe gathered his little women to his chest before standing up with both of them in his arms.  
“Father, we have much to tell you!” said Connie.  
“Yes!” added Cathy, “We have had a glorious time!”  
I saw Charlotte’s eyebrows lift toward her hairline and then she grinned.  
“I know your father will be most delighted to hear all of your stories,” answered Charlotte, “and each should be taken with the proverbial grain of salt,” she added, nodding at the Crowes.  
Dulcey just laughed and the conversation turned, as well it should, to the celebration for Lucy and Arthur and the return of Susan and Graham.  
At just that moment, the violin and flute practice started in the carriage house. The screeching blast made everyone duck their heads down in the neckwear of their respective clothes. Crowe looked toward the carriage house with a look of bemusement.  
“What is God’s name is THAT, Parker? Let’s kill it at once and put it out of our misery!”  
“That,” I said, proudly, “Is the Parker Musical Society, practicing!”  
“Ah!” he responded, as the next stanza of discordant notes rose on the air, “Come on, Crowe women! That is our cue to depart!”  
“Please come up next Tuesday night for the party for Arthur and Lucy! You all will be surprised by the improvement in the musical offerings!”  
“Issuing guarantees in writing Parker? Cause if not, we are going to come for the food with no expectation of entertainment!” he said, drolly.  
“You will be most welcome!” said Charlotte.  
“Good bye, Miss Charlotte, Mr Sidney,” said the girls in unison, “We love you and thank you for your many kindnesses while we were here!”

I write tonight in the quiet of my study with all of you sleeping soundly in your own beds for the first time in weeks. Crowe’s offer to purchase the Emporium is rattling around my brain and settling in my heart in a myriad of ways, all of them tempting and happy. What is a Papa to do? I must review our investments and think about our future as a family. What will I do if my next venture requires extensive travel? I could not bear the thought of being away from you my children for significant amounts of time.  
Quite honestly, the thought of being away from Charlotte even a single night feels wholly unacceptable to me, but there seems to be no hurry tied to our discussions and I will give myself the summer to contemplate this situation, if Crowe agrees.  
Tonight, I am content to listen to the quiet settle in the corners of our house, to hear the wind whistle through the edges of the front window and swirl through the hall.  
I say goodnight my children, eager to go to my bed where I might pull your mother to me as she sleeps and know that the possibilities of tomorrow can not wrestled into submission tonight.  
I am happy to close my eyes without pondering the future into a sleepless night.

Sweet dreams, my Parkers! I love you all and appreciate your kindness extended to the Crowe girls even though I heard your gleeful whispers when at last they were gone!  
Until tomorrow, 

Papa

16 April

As the sun came up this morning I had been awake for a long time, mulling over the offer from Crowe. I was sitting up in bed, Charlotte sprawled against me and I was twirling a curl from a length of her hair around my finger.  
“Sidney,” she said, sleepily. “Is there a reason you are pulling my hair?”

“Oh, no sweetheart…I didn’t mean to pull I was just thinking, and I was playing with your hair.”  
She sat up and looked at me, propped against the headboard.  
“You are wide awake! What is keeping you from sleep this early morning?  
“Crowe wants to buy me out of the Emporium and take over the business with Arthur and Diana!”  
“That is unexpected! You have seemed rather distracted these past weeks! Are you unhappy with the business or just bored?”  
“We have been so blessed to have this idea take off and I would sound like a dolt were I to offer a single complaint! I am so close to my children, never have to travel and I do not ever have to think of saying good bye to you, not even for a moment. I feel I must have a life’s work, that I must know what is next before I leap from the Emporium into what might be next, but I have no idea what that might be! I do not farm, I do not invent and I can not even tell you what I might like to do for I have no idea myself!”  
Charlotte settled against me as I put my arms around her, placing her head against my heart.  
“I live my life as if I have a tremendous secret that only I know! I do you know, and the obvious answer to what that secret might be is you! You, Charlotte, are the reason I get up every morning! Your love sustains me! I could be left with nothing to do for the rest of my life but pick up rocks from the beach and I would be the happiest of men to return home each night as long as you were waiting on me!”  
She chuckled. “For whom would ‘picking up rocks on the beach’ be a life’s work for which one might be paid or one that would truly be fulfilling?”  
“I was just talking randomly…I meant that I could be a menial laborer and still be happy if you were my wife!”  
“Well, it is your business, Sidney! I will support you no matter what your decision will be and I thank you for telling me, but I trust you! You will make the right decision.”  
I knew she would love and support me, regardless. I just wish she would say, ‘Here is what you should do’ and she never will do that because she is so sure I will make the ultimate right decision even when I am unsure myself.

With all of this rolling about in my mind, I almost walked by the vicar without speaking.  
“Mr Parker!” he greeted me. “Good day!”  
I turned right around and walked with him down the street, listening to some chatter about the roof of the vicarage and then he stopped, short.

“Ben told Mrs Hankins he would work for biscuits and tea, did you know that? He refuses all other forms of payment and wishes for a list of menial chores he might do every Tuesday! The vicarage has never been in such superior shape and we are most grateful!”

“I am glad he is of service to you in some way! Helping you was all his idea, you know!”

It was then that I spied Mr and Mrs Renfroe entering the Crown. “That gentleman is Mr Renfroe, the new headmaster of the Sanditon School.” I nodded in his direction. “He and his wife will move into Sanditon House on the first of June.”  
“Hmmm. Mrs Hankins and I will call on him and make his acquaintance. It is our hope to support the school in any way possible, but so far no one has asked us to serve.”  
“He planned to start school in September but has invited the children to a three week introductory session at the end of July! The oldest Parker five can hardly wait!”  
The girls and the boys are getting rather a late start and wish to cram everything they can learn, in as little time as is possible!” I said.  
He was pleased with their eagerness and we parted in opposite directions, telling me for certain the Hankins would attend the party for Arthur and Lucy next week. I plan to send Jessup in the carriage for them, so the walk will not be so tiring.

The Babington’s, minus Charles who will still be at school, will be here on Tuesday. They will arrive in time for the party and everything related to the school will have to wait until later in the week when we have time to discuss things fully.

Mrs Pomeroy has returned as the cook to Sanditon House and I know she will spoil the children with delicious foods and sweets for as long as she is able. I hope the school fills the bill for my children and their eagerness will predict their success as students.  
Charlotte and I have spent the last few years teaching the children to write, read and reason. They can do math and they are learning to read music with John Riley’s help. They are very different in their interests and still very supportive of each other’s hobbies. I am very proud of how all of my children get along with one another.

When I returned home I heard a door slam before I was in the front entry.  
“If you EVER speak to me again, Joe,” yelled Grace, “I will murderize you! Papa will have to feed your remains to the fishes in the cove because there will be very little left of you!”  
“Yes!” added Gabby, “You and Michael can simply go jump off the cliff! I can not believe you would riffle our things and take our drawings to make targets for your darts! We worked hard on that artwork!”  
In the library were several targets set up along the bookcase made from delicate watercolors and pencil drawings. There were several holes in the shelving above the first shelf of books. There were two leather books spines into which a couple of darts were so deeply embedded the boys were not able to extract them. ‘Shakespeare’s Complete Works’ and ‘The Atlas of the World’ were now holey volumes.  
I was instantly furious, and I sat down before I could reach either one of them.  
“Charlotte!” I called. It came out as a shout and the children, always in perpetual motion skidded to a halt in the hall to come stand around me in the library.  
When everyone was gathered in front of me, I addressed Charlotte first.  
“I trust that you will interview our children and get them to tell you why they saw fit to have this room turned into a place of target practice with their darts! I want them to express the reason our bookcase is riddled with holes and why two of our books have been scarred. Then I want you to ask the girls why they left their wet paintings on the floors under the windows for Barker Parker to walk over and spread paw prints over the wood floors! There is something dripping from the arm of the chair by the fireplace and if I don’t stop seeing the many ways these children have contributed to the destruction of our home I am going to be beyond furious!”

You all had the decency to look at least a bit ashamed and it did nothing to ebb the flow of my disappointment in you.

Randy, ever brave in the face of my wrath, either because he is unafraid of me or just misses the signs of my fury, piped up.  
“Papa it was MUCH worse earlier, and it all happened when Mama took a nap with Jane Loving! She trusted us to take care of each other and so we did!” he said, sweeping his good arm around the room.”

“I do apologize, Sidney!” said Charlotte. “It never occurred to me that I would be required to spell out what was not permissible behavior! You will just have to punish me! Afterall, I was the one who fell asleep when I should have been in charge.”  
“Just go to our room and wait for me there,” I said forcefully.  
She left and the children were totally shocked.  
“I want this room in shipshape when I come back, Gabriella! I do not doubt that you and Grace are sorry for the destruction of your artwork. The fact that you both left it where your brothers could find it made me less inclined to be mad at you, until I saw the floors! Boys! I do not think you want to hear what I am thinking right now! So, all of you, get to it… NOW!”

As I left the room, I heard Grace sniffle and I felt a bit of guilt for laying it on so thick.  
I allowed my footsteps to resonate in the hall and then I opened the door to our room.  
I closed the door and locked it.  
I walked over to the mantle, leaning over the fire.  
Charlotte was sitting in the armchair, her fingers steepled in front of her furrowed brow.  
I looked at her for a long moment before going to her and kneeling at her feet. I kissed her. “Hello, you, long day?”  
She visibly relaxed into my arms, but the question was still in her eyes.  
“Charlotte, I wanted you to myself to say that you should be able to take a nap, a bath,a walk…whatever, when I am gone and not have to wonder if the house is going to be here when you are back among our offspring. I know I was mad, very angry, and I had to walk out rather than ‘knock their heads together’, as Stringer once suggested. Please forgive me! It is not very evident of good parenting when the minute they believe no one is watching they… they um...”  
“What?” said Charlotte, softly, “Act like children? They are not supposed to be little adults, Sidney! We work very hard everyday to make sure you come home each day to clean, neat, respectful children and the very first time you are early, and their behavior is notably beastly. you leave them in the library to decide who will be the first that you sacrifice to the lions!  
Furthermore, you all but promised them I was going to be held to account and now, that your ire is somewhat cooled, I am supposed to put it all back together so you reenter their lives as the smiling, beloved Papa they adore!”  
“You are right, Charlotte! I do not want them to think, not even for one minute, that there is anything that would negate one small amount of my love for them! Or, honestly that I would ever ‘punish you’ for their misbehavior. Will you go with me to talk to them, please?”  
Holding my hand, we entered the library just as Gabriella shouted “Now!...No, WAIT! It isn’t Joe, Grace! It is Papa!”  
The wooden bucket of soapy water they had braced at the top of the door after cleaning the paw prints from the floor toppled, spilling over my head and shoulders, drenching me completely and splashing down the front of Charlotte’s dress.  
Grace was behind the door, her mouth in a horrified ‘O’ and Gabriella’s hands were covering her face in terrorized awe.  
I had never, ever been so totally doused before not even during pranks at school. With one look after having come around the corner, Joe turned right around and ran toward the back door.  
“STOP!” I yelled.  
Charlotte was bent over at the waist and I feared she might be hurt until I heard her laughing. She was not only laughing, she was howling and the children gathered around us in confusion.  
“Mama!” said Randy, “We are so sorry you are in trouble with Papa!”  
“Yeah,” said Michael, “I think maybe its our fault.”  
“I’m sorry, Papa!” said Gabriella, “We meant to drown Joe, not you!”  
Any discipline I might have considered was lost and I gathered them to me before we all cleaned the floor.  
Several of them gave me the side eye. When Jane Loving came padding down the hall from her nap she said, “Oh Papa, what did you do to your hair?”  
Everybody laughed and the familial equilibrium was renewed.

My children, I am not sure what I could have done to make the situation better. Charlotte with her laughter, started the pendulum swinging back toward the normal. I was the one that seemed to learn the lesson this day, my children. Watch my temper!  
Whistle loudly before entering a room, arrive home when expected and allow children to be children, even if some days children are too clever for their own good.  
I crossed my arms and watched while they cleaned. After several apologies the children left us alone and I kissed Charlotte deeply.  
“Please, Mr Parker, forgive me for laughing! I’ll go pour you a bath so that you can wash that soap out of your hair!”

So tonight, my children, while I write, a bath awaits me. I am the one being rewarded for my lack of skills as a disciplinarian. I have learned a few things, Charlotte’s laughter eased the tension and my girls sure know how to rig a water prank. Randy always tells the absolute truth and children should be children.  
All of you have proven you are very good at being just that!

Good night,  
Papa


	10. Chapter 10

23 April

I find that I am as tired tonight as I have ever been following tonight’s musicale. I would bet that Arthur and Lucy have aching faces from smiling so much and we all had a wonderful time.

The children performed very well indeed! (You did you know, not only your Papa thinks so!).  
They received a boisterous standing ovation from the entire Crowe family and the crowd joined in most enthusiastically.  
The Vicar and Mrs Hankins were the first to arrive, as Jessup fetched them in the carriage and were as delighted to be in attendance as was anyone there. I know he can seem a bit heavy handed with the desire to ram as much scripture into his flock as is possible for one lifetime, but when he felt my eyes upon him, we toasted each other with what has become a bit of fondness.  
Graham and Susan were in attendance, as were the Babingtons, and it occurred to me after Tom and Mary and Diana and Hans arrived, my hilltop held those people for whom I hold the highest esteem.  
Charlotte was happy and beautiful and her pregnancy is now quite obvious to all. Sara encouraged her to rest often, but it was not until Randy asked her to dance with him in the aisle that she sat happily with him on her lap afterwards.  
I looked at their profiles, so very alike. Dimpled chins, curly dark hair and merry expressions. I smiled as she shifted him to sit beside her without disturbing the sling on his arm. He patted her lovingly and I delighted in the view of them.  
My own lap was full of Jane Loving and she enthusiastically responded to the musical offerings of her siblings. It was for Graham that her unmitigated affection shone through. She provided the sounds of awe for his stories, led the applause for his pipes and blew him a kiss when he waved to her from the make shift stage. When he interviewed the crowd, starting with the Parkers about what instruments they played, he got every response from the Irish flute, drums and violin to the piano.  
Jane Loving removed her thumb long enough to respond, “I play my dollies!”  
“Of course you do, Beauty! Tis just what a wee small lass should be playing at five years old! Perhaps when yer tired of your dollies, Uncle Graham will teach ye the pipes!”  
Everyone laughed, but I must say my children, if none of you are ever inclined to play the bagpipes, I will be most relieved.

Susan sat beside me for awhile and she said quietly, “I met the Renfroes in town yesterday and I must say I can not imagine the two of you are not already at fisticuffs!”  
“Now see here my lady, I disliked him on the spot, but he will have no quarrel with me as long as the school is managed well and the children remain challenged to learn.”  
“He is an oafish boar and I can not imagine whatever attracted Babington to him! He was berating his wife in the Crown when Graham came in an ace of thrashing him, but she simpered and cowed until he hushed! He had nothing good to say about the town of Sanditon, I’ll tell you!”  
“I will definitely keep my eyes upon him,” I responded, “I still need to speak with Babington about him! Renfroe has dominated too many of my thoughts since I met him! I am not sure why, but I felt like the disapproval was mutual, instantly! I would not give him a second thought if he were not going to have such sway over my children!”  
It was after midnight when Jessup returned from taking the Hankins home and the boys and I had stowed the long tables and extra chairs in the carriage house. Sara and Charlotte put away the food and the Jessups returned home together. We fell in the bed where I stayed until Charlotte’s deep breathing signaled her deep sleep.

Only then did I rise to write, documenting the night on paper and the happiness of the summer ahead.  
Crowe and I shared a positive nod, which I hope, lets him know I am still considering his offer, but I still had to figure what the future might hold for my family.  
Tom has decided to begin building a pier on the waterfront and assuming he would even want my help, I will admit there is nothing about the development of Sanditon from the stand point of building which appeals to me.  
I write tonight, my children, wondering what I can do to assure you all have a stellar future while providing a solid path to our future as a family.  
Aristotle once said, “Those who educate children well are more to be honored than they who produce them; for these only gave them life, those the art of living well.”  
It is truly my hope, my children, that your mother and I have done both! When you leave our home to make your individual marks on the world we hope you take good judgment, a broad sense of humor and all our love with you. 

To my great relief you are all still within the grasp of my arms and I am reluctant to consider you might leave me, ever.

Sweet dreams, my music makers! The tunes of your hearts are still echoing around the cliffs this night, I am sure of it! I have such pride in your accomplishments and the time practicing you all displayed.

I love you, as always,  
Papa

12 May

After church this day, the boys and I decided to stalk deer in Sanditon Park. We counted the fawn we saw and noted two stags in the Park. Ben would quietly drop into the brush and the deer would pass him as though he were a tree or a bush, while the other boys and I hung back in the tree line. We were not armed and were only there to take stock while enjoying the beauty of the spring afternoon.

On the walk home, we passed Sandition House and Michael said, “There is our school!”  
“Yes,” added Joe, “The building where the best of our childhood will go to die!”  
I stopped abruptly. “Surely you do not believe that negative assessment, boys! Learning should provide you with such exciting days of study that you will come home every day with reluctance! You will have so much fun meeting the other children from our town that the days will fly by and before you know it you will be grown men, headed for college and the challenges of adulthood!”  
Ben added, “Yes, Papa, I am sure you are right, but I would rather learn all I need to know from you! The fact that there will be girls there is the only thing that holds an attraction for me!”  
I chuckled as Michael and Joe made retching sounds.

Randy marched on ahead of us, paying no attention whatsoever to the conversation. He was happy to be read to by his Mama and to stay close to home with Jane Loving. Although Charlotte and I were most worried about Jane’s reception of the new baby, it is Randy for whom the change will be the greatest. His Mother’s lap would be filled by another and he will need to move toward school, leaving his babyhood behind and I was not sure he was ready.  
It was at that point that Ben put his finger to his lips and stepped off the path back into the tree line. In a small copse of trees was a boy about their age. He was huddled on the ground, obviously hiding and sharp-eyed Ben had ferreted him out.  
He was wearing a motley outfit of clothing, was barefooted and his legs were scratched by the bracken.  
As is ever the case, Ben spoke before I could even ponder the situation.  
“Hello there! We are just heading home for our tea, would you like to come with us? You would be most welcome, right Papa?”  
Micheal and Joe looked at me before assessing the situation and Randy walked on ahead oblivious to the boy he has passed by. Not Ben! Ben was already pulling the young man to his feet.  
“My name is Ben Parker. This is my brother Joe and his twin Michael. The little fellow there is Randy and this is our Papa, Mr Sidney Parker. Who might you be?”  
There was a long moment of silence when I watched the lad as his face contorted with a plausible story for the inquisitive Ben.  
“My name is Philip…Smith. I am just passing through this fine park on my way to town.”  
“Well,” said Ben, “Why hide from the likes of us? Can’t you tell we are harmless?”  
He only shrugged, but I could tell he was assessing our clothing and shoes and he looked beyond us to Windswept.  
“That where you live?” he asked, gesturing.  
“Yes,” I answered. “And you are most welcome to join us for tea before you make your way to town!” I added.  
Ben chattered away as we progressed to the house and I saw Philip’s hunched shoulders relax a bit with the total acceptance by which he was greeted.  
We trooped into the house through the kitchen door and I noted the boy’s hungry look as we passed through.  
“Philip Smith? This is my wife and the boy’s mother, Mrs Charlotte Parker. These girls are our daughters, Grace, Gabby and Jane.”  
He nodded politely and bowed to Charlotte as though he were dressed for court and she might be the Queen.  
If he felt shame in his appearance that was in no way apparent and he settled in a wing chair in the library and crossed his legs, allowing Charlotte full view of his bare feet and the torn skin on his legs.  
Sara brought our tea to the library and there were extra sandwiches and biscuits and a larger mug added to the tray. I handed him a plate.  
“Please, help yourself, Philip!”  
We all watched in awe as the obviously very hungry lad ate and drank until he could do nothing but stop. He apologized after burping and colored when Jane Loving giggled.  
Charlotte queried, “What brings you to Sanditon, Philip?”  
“I am here, then? In Sanditon?”  
“Yes, about a quarter hour walk from the center of town” she added.  
“I hear there is a free school starting up and I plan to get in for a while, though I am mostly grown. Perhaps a job and some ‘eres to live.”  
“The school will start with a short session in July,” I responded, “and it is free to all who have sponsors, either relatives or friends of family, in Sanditon. Will you have a sponsor, then, here in Sanditon?”  
It was only then that his positive countenance caved.  
“Ain’t got one of those,” he said with obvious disappointment, “ne’ver a family or a sponsor.”  
Charlotte looked at me for a single split second and I realized in that moment, Philip Smith had gotten both.  
“Philip, would consider working here with Mr. Jessup who is our man about house?” she asked him. “We could provide a bed in the upstairs of our carriage house and sponsor you for the first July session of school….as our cousin… from Willingden. Does this in anyway work with the plans you may have set for the summer? I would really like you to have the opportunity to attend school.”  
“I really don’t know nothing ‘bout working inside a house, but I am at home with a horse or two.”

By the end of the afternoon, an old bedstead was set up in the carriage house and after Jessup had aided the boy with a much needed bath and some clean clothes, as well as a pair of my cast off boots, a more pleasant looking young man had never been presented at Windswept.  
We had a week before we would have to answer for his presence with our family at church and I had every intention of keeping him from town for the week to protect him from gossip. When I expressed my concern to Jessup, he said, “I figure this might be my turn, with your help, to set another hungry young feller on a better path an’ I will help any way I can!”

Tonight, I write about the addition of Philip to our family. Jane Loving calls him ‘Ben’s found boy’ no matter how many times we tell her his name is Philip.  
In the stables, especially with the ponies, I was glad to offer him a place, but in my mind I kept hearing his hesitation when he told us his name, “Philip…Smith”, and I realized he was lying about his name. I was willing to welcome him for the summer, but beyond then, I was not sure.

My children, especially you, Ben, are all so giving! So eager to bring anyone into our family who might benefit from exposure to the way we live here on the cliffs are you, that I have not stressed the risks that might also be involved in being so open to strangers.  
Sweet dreams my goodhearted children. You have inherited this need to care from your mother. Even though I often follow her lead, my first inclination is always a selfish refusal to participate in any scheme which may fracture our heaven on earth.  
Yet each of you seem to believe it will only be a representative of a heavenly place if we open it to everyone and I stand in the gulf between selfishness and gratitude for what we have. It is a fine line of expectation that we are kind and my being protective of each of you.  
I gathered Charlotte to me tonight. Her back has begun to ache and she thinks the babe might be sideways in the womb. You seem to have decided to kick her silly before making an appearance, bitty! It is my greatest hope, tiny Parker, that you give up your mischief soon so that your Mama might at least enjoy part of the summer, paddling in the cove and enjoying her new place to perch on our beach built by the boys earlier in the spring.

I think of young Philip tonight, in a bed, well fed and warm and I think he can only count his blessings on being discovered in the wood. I pray we do everything right on his behalf.

Good night my dear stalkers! I love you, one and all.

Papa


	11. Chapter 11

15 May

“Jane Loving?”  
“Yes, my Papa?”  
“Why do you always answer, ‘Yes, my Papa’? You know, don’t you that I am a Papa for many people in our house, right?”  
She giggled.  
“You are not Barker Parker’s Papa! Or Mama’s Papa…or Mini D’s Papa!”  
“Yes, you are right, my darling girl! But what about Randy and Joe, Michael and Ben?  
What about Gabby and Grace?”  
“Papa, I know you are their Papa too, but ‘cept I like to pretend you are just mine sometimes!”  
We walked along the cliff path in the early morning because Jane wanted to see the school where the children would attend in July. She held my big hand in her small one and the other, with the ever ready extended thumb ready for the quiet moment in the conversation when she would pop it back into her mouth. It was a grey shriveled little thing, quite pitiful to see, and I was sure it could not taste very good.  
“Oooh!” she said with reverence, “Look how close to my house it is! The school is very big!”  
“This is where the bigger Parker brothers and sisters will go every day to learn things about the world and read books and have fun!” I told her.  
“I want to go to this school! May I go too, Papa?”  
I kneeled down next to her and we looked down into the entry of Sanditon House from the walk way. Into her mouth went the thumb.  
“They will not allow children to come to the school who are unable to write without sucking their thumbs.”  
“Ooooh! Well…I could stop!” said she.  
“You could? Are you sure you want to do that?” I asked.  
She looked at the tortured little finger and then she whispered, “I could try!”  
I did not want to force her, but I realized we were at a critical juncture and if she stopped immediately I knew she could not start school this summer, but Charlotte and I really hoped to encourage her to stop the constant slurping on her thumb.  
“For every day you try very hard to stop, I will read an extra story to you at bedtime and Mama will help you draw a picture.”  
“I will think about it,” said she, sagely. The thumb went right back in her mouth and we walked back toward home enjoying the sounds of birds in the park and the rising mist from the distant shore.  
None of our other children had needed this form of soothing, but I knew that I often gnawed at my own thumb nail when I was mulling things over and I could not, would not judge this child too harshly. I left her with Charlotte to begin their day and I heard her explain to Charlotte that she might like more stories at night.  
I walked into town to the Emporium and just as I neared the building, Crowe fell into step beside me.  
“Parker! Good morning! What deep thought has your brow furrowed this fine day?”  
“Thumb sucking!” I answered instantly.  
“My, my,” he answered drolly, “this is not a problem with which I knew you struggled!”  
“Not me, you wicked man, I was thinking of Jane Loving!”  
“Bribery is good in cases such as these, I think! Take home a jar of her favorite sweets and when her day is thumb free, hell, start with half a day, give her a treat! She either stops in order to earn more treats or her teeth will rot out and she will never marry…either way it’s a win-win for her besotted Papa!”  
I laughed in spite of my real concern. Crowe was always direct, and I knew for a fact that he bought a bag of sweets every afternoon before heading for home. He was a softy himself where his girls were concerned and I knew he understood even though he was making light of the situation.

“Before your day gets too busy, let us talk,” I said.  
“Yes! Give me a few minutes!”  
I settled at my desk with the Sanditon newspaper and flipped it over to the back page where a quarter page notice caught my eye.

‘WANTED FOR THIEVERY’  
JOHN PHILIP MALBERRY  
Of Tunbridge Wells  
15 Year old stable hand sought for  
questioning after the disappearance of  
two Arabian mares from the Forsyth stables.

There was more information, but the rough sketch below the announcement was undoubtably ‘Ben’s found boy’, our own Philip Smith and I was pacing with such agitation that Crowe turned away from my office door without interrupting.  
“I will be back in a few minutes,” I told him, suddenly in a rush. I headed straight out of the Emporium and directly to the Magistrates office.  
Travis Tate has been the magistrate for more than 15 years and I knew him to be a fair and honest man.  
“Mr Parker, What brings you here this fine morning? Everything alright at your home on the hill?”  
He gestured to the chair in front of him and I sat.  
“I understand your office is in search of a horse thief. What makes you think he was headed to Sanditon?”  
“William Forsythe reported him for leaving his stable proper following the disappearance of two horses and when I pushed him for more information about the boy, he told me he might head to the town where a free education was promised. The boy supposedly took the horses to sell in order to finance his new life.”  
I thought of the barefoot young man, miserable with hunger, shoeless and scarred by his life in the woods.  
“Hmmm. I wonder.” said I. “A young man who calls himself ‘Philip Smith’ is a guest in my home. I have offered him a job in my stable in exchange for his room and board and his sponsorship for school. My oldest, Ben, found him hiding in Sanditon Park and we took him home to Windswept.”  
“That was trusting of you, Parker” he said, “How did he explain the horseflesh accompanying him?”

“There were no horses! The child, because although he is older than my children, he was every bit a hungry boy who was dirty, tired and hungry, had no horse with him…he had no jacket, hell, man, he was not wearing shoes!”  
“Well, that does not suggest he had money from selling horses does it?” he questioned.  
“No, it does not! You and I both know that the theft of horses so valuable will be a hanging offense. I would that you would leave the boy in my care. We will act as his sponsors for school and all that is required. Please discontinue running this notice and spend a little more time getting to the bottom of this story from the stable. Should you require an arrest after a thorough investigation is complete, I will bring him to you myself.”  
His hands were steepled in front of his face and long minutes passed before he responded.  
“I trust you, Mr Parker and I do find it very unusual that a stable hand would steal horses in order to finance what, for all practical purposes, is a free education. ‘Right then. I will look into it and get back to you. But I would watch him! The first sign of missing candle sticks or even something as mundane as a loaf of bread, and I want to hear from you. Agreed?”  
“Yes! Agreed!” I responded. We shook hands and I went back to the Emporium, more than a little disconcerted about our house guest.

Crowe raised an eyebrow in askance, but I offered no discussion about my errand out and we began talking over his offer.

“My plan would be to take over in September. Here is my offer,” he said as he slid a card across my desk. I looked at the very generous number he had written down. “My expectation is that you would answer any questions I might have, offer guidance as required and keep my daughters at your house whenever I have to travel.” He grinned at me and I was decided.  
“I wish to have a discussion with Arthur and Diana, and I will get back to you as soon as possible.”  
“Very well, then. Thank you for listening Parker.”  
When he left my office, I glanced out the window, waiting for regret to steer my decision away from accepting his offer. I saw the Emporium staff working diligently at their individual tasks and I felt no reluctance about leaving them behind in the care of my siblings and my friend.  
I invited Arthur and Diana to join me for lunch at the Crown and when they agreed I walked ahead to make arrangements for a private dining room.  
In the main room of the bar, I saw Renfroe surrounded by a group of four younger people and he was evidentially laying out the rules for teaching in ‘his’ school. This must be his staff. They all looked pleasant enough on first perusal.  
My back was then turned, and I listened for a moment. I was blatantly eaves dropping and the behavior is never becoming for a gentleman.  
“I will bode no discussion on any decision I make in front of the pupils and I will employ all the discipline meted out in the school. Do you understand?”  
They all answered in the affirmative.  
“I find,” he continued, “That there is always a child, perhaps two, who will require immediate discipline and I will make an example of them in front of their peers! If dealt with at once we will have no further issues when the school year begins. Now about the class room assignments…”  
My jaw was clenched so tightly my back teeth were on the verge of crumbling. What kind of man would be planning to make an example out of a child he has not even had the good fortune of meeting? I walked straight into the inner room without looking back.

Arthur and Diana joined me and a most positive discussion about the sale of the business ensued. Leave it to Diana to cut to the heart of the situation.  
“Both of us will be sorry not to work with you every day, but you are rather the loner, Sidney, and I quite imagine where we will have drawers full of order forms and idea sheets about the future in our desks, you will have a book of poetry or philosophy and a bottle of port!” she said.  
“Yes, you may be right. Sometimes I find I am thinking about things so deeply one might hear the gears turning in my brain! I just do not want either of you to feel as though you are abandoned!”  
“Come, now, brother,” said Arthur, “We are all eager to see what the future holds for you and I do not doubt Crowe’s offer will be a fair one.”  
When we finished our luncheon and exited through the bar, Renfroe’s eyes narrowed in recognition and I made a point of making no eye contact with him before leaving.  
Arthur and Diana walked back to the business and I turned onto the beach in an effort to clear my head and compartmentalize the thinking about my morning.  
My first priority, now that the decision has been made about the Emporium, is the care and keeping of Philip Smith and I was eager to see him at work within the stable.  
When I stuck my head into the stable doors, I found the lad on his knees holding Happy’s pony face between his palms.  
“Why’re you a biter then, pal o’ mine? That is not a very fine way to make an acquaintance! I run the food bags around this place now and if you wanta’ veg or two you will need to sharpen up, you handsome boy!” He leaned forward and kissed the pony between the eyes and was rewarded with a friendly nicker when he handed over an apple.

The stable was immaculate, and the horses had been groomed and fed. I backed away before he might notice me, and I headed on to Windswept to discuss my morning with Charlotte. I found her putting the finishing touches on a picnic that she planned to enjoy with the children at the beach while allowing them to enjoy the first paddling and swim of the summer.  
I happily followed them down to the cove. “Sara, have Philip join us when he returns from the stable, please!”  
‘I will, Sir,” she answered cheerfully.  
I carried the basket, some toweling and a pillow down the path and for at least an hour we did nothing but laugh at the antics of our children and eat the tasty morsels Sara had packed.  
Leaning back against the cushion now added to the bench, Charlotte looked up at the sky with such a happy countenance that any concerns I was still carrying floated away on the breeze.  
After awhile, Philip joined us and after carefully removing his boots, he splashed along the waves with the boys quite happily.  
Philip was thin and graceful and moved with the agility of an athlete. The girls laughed at their antics and we dozed in the warm afternoon, while they played around us.  
“Charlotte,” I said softly, “My dear Charlotte!”  
“Oh Lord, Sidney, you are not inclined to wax romantic on my resemblance to a whale are you!? As nice as your compliments are, I am not receptive to anything right now that might make me cry! I must admit to harboring the desire to just stay here in this shelter rather than climb back up that hill!”  
She was as beautiful to me as she was the very first moment I loved her and I told her so.  
“I have decided to sell Crowe my half of the business, Charlotte. His offer is generous and yet, I know I will need to find something to enhance the wages for my family and I have no idea what that might be.”  
“I guess you will be left picking up stones on the beach then!”  
I laughed because I knew the comfort of her trusting me with such completeness that any anxiety she might feel would never surface, for she never doubted my ability in any way.  
So, I changed the subject.  
“You should see our stable,” I said under my breath, “Philip has the place in great condition, and I am well pleased with his work.”  
Charlotte looked at me, squinting from beneath the hand she raised to her eyes to keep the sun from shining into her face and she grinned at me. “I know you doubted my instant resolve to shelter him, but I had no doubt that he would fit right in with our crew!”  
I did not have the heart to mention the visit I had with the Magistrate. I will tell her, just not this afternoon. Not right now. Not when the weather is so exquisite, the company so divine and the children so very happy to build castles, seek shells and enjoy the day.  
We stayed until dusk and the boys carried all the belongs up the path while I carried Charlotte up the steep incline. Jane Loving giggled and looked back at me as I trudged.  
When all the sand was brushed off and all the accoutrements from the afternoon stored away, I sat in the library and gathered my two youngest children into my lap. We read a story or two and when my voice seemed to quit, Jane Loving turned in my arms to look me in the eyes.  
“Where did your voice go, my Papa? Randy and I are right here! When the monkey was talking to the elephant, you stopped, and we all know this is not the end of the story!”  
Jane wants to know the rest of the story and I knew I could only offer her the one in the book with no guideline for how the story of our lives might progress! I am all out of wise monkeys and I have never seen an elephant who might answer my own questions about the future. What will it do to my family if I am required to turn over young Philip to answer for his crimes before the Magistrate?  
After the children were all in bed, I found Charlotte waiting for me as she read a book by the fire in our room.  
“Sidney, what haven’t you shared about the day?” Her intuition was ever apparent.  
I knelt at her feet and kissed her. “I need to talk to you about Philip.”  
After I relayed every detail I knew from the wanted poster printed in the newspaper to my visit with the law man, she sat back and appraised me carefully.  
“I know you have done exactly the right thing, and now we have to do all else that we might to protect him.” She cupped my chin in her hand before looking me in the eye. “That boy is no more a horse thief than I am!”  
I stood up and pulled her to me, gathering her up so she might sit in my lap by the fire. Rubbing her back until she murmured sleepily into my shoulder, I thought through the day.  
Today my day started with the most pressing thought of saving Jane Loving’s little thumb from further assault and ended up with the decision to sell a business and welcome a ‘wanted man’ into our family.

My children as I write tonight, I believe that the varying details of our lives will work out. I will not over worry for then I live like a man without faith. I have some, however it may often be shaken, enough to know that if I try to live with a heart full of good intent, I will not fail at whatever might come next. I simply must believe that all will be revealed in time.  
Sleep well, my children.

Our afternoon at our cove was relaxing and lovely and I could not imagine a better way to spend time with you all.

I love you,

Papa


	12. Chapter 12

25 May

It has rained every day for the past five days. The children are sniping at each other and Jane Loving prayed for sunshine instead of blessing our meal at dinner. The children are longing for a night under the stars with music, stories and fun. This last rainy push toward summer is almost like the world is having a tearful tantrum and we are exhausted from our attempt to wrangle our very active brood into a calm and functioning mob!

Lucy and Arthur came up the hill, on foot with their umbrellas, carrying a very large box with handles between them. They stayed for tea, and about an hour after Lucy checked on Charlotte estimating for us all that the new Parker would make an appearance in late June and not August at all, the curiosity about the mysterious box became too much for the children to bear.  
“Oh! Yes!” said Arthur with a twinkle, it is a little present for Jane Loving that I brought back from Italy… Come here, Jane!”  
She walked over to Arthur and put on arm up on his shoulder, watching as he opened the box and pulled out the straw packing to set it aside. He pulled into his arms a beautiful doll in a gown like a newborn baby would wear. There was a stack of nappies, feeding ware and clothing and the painted face had a sweet, sleepy baby expression. Jane was instantly in love. The doll was big enough that both of her hands were required to hold the baby carefully and Jane was thrilled beyond measure. She immediately put her baby to bed in the cradle we had moved into the corner of the library awaiting our new resident. She and Charlotte were busy at once.

Lucy and Arthur had just solved the thumb issue, for as long as the baby ‘needed’ Jane Loving, she was far too busy to suck her thumb.  
The boys rolled their eyes and made gagging noises, but the children all looked on happily on as Jane Loving became a ‘Mama’.  
“What will you name her, Jane?” asked Charlotte.  
“Her name is ‘Baby Aunt Lucy’” responded Jane in a sober declaration and without hesitation. She was far too busy to notice when everyone laughed. I toasted Arthur with my teacup and Lucy was enchanted, joining Charlotte by the cradle to play with Jane.  
“Uncle Arthur, please, tell me that box still has several good moods and a new book or two down in the bottom!” Grace said, hopefully.  
“No, honey,” he responded, happily. “Just a few new art supplies and a bound tablet for you all!”

The children were all delighted to share in the gift and soon settled in their respective corners drawing houses and villages, writing stories and drawing pirate maps that would lead to secret treasure as soon as the rain stopped.

We sent Lucy and Arthur home in the carriage as darkness fell and peace reigned again at Windswept. In the middle of the night Charlotte shook me awake and we lay in the dark listening to the quiet. “Are you alright my love?”  
“Yes, Sidney! The rain has stopped and my hope for our future is renewed!”  
We laughed and talked until daybreak, making plans for our new baby’s arrival and discussing plans for the summer, savoring the peace of each other and the day ahead.

When I reached the Emporium after a very muddy walk through town, I was eager to make things with Crowe official after drifting for many days after his offer was extended.

“Crowe, I want you to take over, to buy me out! I accept your offer and wonder if you would be able to take the helm by the first week of June?”  
He released a low and delighted whistle before shaking my hand. “When you decide, you decide! Yes, of course, I am ready! I am delighted! But what will you do, retire to an early life of leisure?”

“No, but I want to be home for the first weeks of the introductory school sessions and the birth of our new child! Free and clear! I will of course help you in any way you might need me, but I would love to be able to stay at home without reluctance those precious weeks!”  
“Well, good for you! Being at home with a tribe of screaming pygmy headhunters is not of my idea of a peaceful summer, but each to his own! I will stand you a round at the Crown as often as you may need it! As for the Emporium,my solicitors will send a contract with the check!”

The last musical night at the loggia, I finally had an opportunity to catch up with Babers. We talked children and Eaton and his plans for bring Charles home for the summer. I introduced him to Philip and he accepted him within our midst without question. His kind acceptance reminded me of the questions I harbored about Mr Renfroe and the Sanditon school.

“Tell me, Babers, how did you find Renfroe when you were looking for a headmaster?”  
He colored a bit, and then answered, “I found him in York and I hired him on the spot! He assured me of his credentials and what I saw supported his story, but I honestly did not think too much about him, and I would never have recognized him that evening we met at the Crown unless he had stopped me to speak!”  
I honestly relayed my concerns and repeated verbatim the conversations I had overheard myself as Renfroe addressed his staff. He was instantly appalled.

“I hope you have misinterpreted the enthusiasm he expressed for decorum and discipline for innate meanness, but I will be here for the summer and we will see how his July term goes!”  
When I relayed the information that I would sell the business to Crowe, Babers was shocked.  
“Sidney! I am most jealous of your time with your family! Crowe will be a great new owner! You will be at loose ends! What will be your next venture, have you decided?” he asked.

“I can not see past the safe delivery of our new baby and the start of school for my children, but I will keep you posted as soon as the next great idea beckons to me from the hazy mists of the future!”  
“I do not doubt it! Only you could fall into a brackish sea and return from the depths smelling like roses! You are destined for success, whatever the future holds!”  
(My children, I pray you find yourselves in the possession of at least one friend like I have in Lord Babington! He is resolute in his support of our family and his absolute belief in me!)

The birth of this baby will be different in other ways as well. Charlotte’s father is wrestling a lung ailment this summer and Alison has gone to Willingden with Jamison and her own baby to help out around the farm. For the first time, Mother Heywood will not be here to see to the birth of their new grandchild and our anticipation is tinged with disappointment that the passage of time will keep her from us.  
Unable to go forward without having a most important plan for the birth in my mind, I headed to the offices of Drs Fuchs and Perretti for a consultation to ease my mind.  
I met with both of them. I expressed my concerns, relived the horrible moments of almost losing Gabriella and the next two rather uneventful births of Randy and Jane Loving.  
“Sidney has the uncommon habit of participating in the births of his children… in the room, on the bed with Charlotte, Lucianna,” Hans told her. “Do not be surprised, should you be at the birth, for this is the custom of their family.”  
She turned her full attention on me, and her appraisal was tinged with something like approval.  
“I will not be put off by this custom, after all, you were there for the process of conception, why should you be anywhere else when your child is born?”  
I blushed. A woman doctor was a bit intimidating to me, but why should the concept seem so foreign? In every emergency, the clearheaded response always comes from Charlotte and she has proven, time and again, her capability to make good decisions under pressure! I would welcome Lucy’s help when our time comes to deliver the baby and I told them both as much before leaving.  
As fate would have it, I ran into Mrs Smithfelden Jones as I traversed the town. She was in high dudgeon and I could tell before we passed on the street that she would stop me. She did.  
“Ooooh, Mr Parker! Might you answer a question for me? I am quite sure you will have the answer!”  
“I will gladly answer any question for which I might have an answer,” said I.  
“I have just come from a very short meeting with Mr Renfroe, the new headmaster? When I suggested my daughter would be moving here in August with her children and they will be attending Sanditon School in the fall, he said they would not qualify unless they attended his introductory session in July. Is this your understanding?”  
“Oh, Ma’am,” I stated, “I know of no such rule agreed upon by the school council. Are you sure that was his absolute final word?”  
“Yes! He was not interested in their ages, capabilities or our goals for them, simply suggesting we keep them home for the year to work in the butcher shop before we place educational expectations before them! He was most posh and snooty! Not what Lord Babington promised at all.”  
“Might your daughter send the children to Sanditon, ahead of her move? I really have no suggestion but the thought that we give him a chance during the July session and see what happens.”  
She left me to return home at once in order to write to her daughter.  
‘Snooty and posh?’ Was her description of the man really the impression that would permeate the moldable minds of our town?  
‘We learned nothing, Papa, but he was very posh!’ I cringe to think of it!

The next week will pass with the continuation of the plans being settled for the summer. Charles Babington’s return from Eaton will thrill my boys who look up to him and my girls will most probably ignore him completely.  
As soon as possible, I will take the entire crowd to the cove for another lazy afternoon on the beach. I must embrace these last days as a businessman at the Emporium with attention to detail to insure all will relay without a hitch.

Tonight, my darling children, your Papa has plans to spend days with you all this summer before you start to attend school, before you can grow up even more, and I can hardly wait for those hours we will spend together!  
Cheers to the summer days to come, my darlings!

Papa

5 June

And, so it goes! Crowe took over the business yesterday with little fanfare. I walked home having been interviewed for the newspaper and realizing I had nothing much to say. I had closed the door on my time at the Emporium without the hint of regret and I entered the door at Windswept expecting…something! A cheer? A hug? Something!

Instead Charlotte sent me off to the stable to hold hooves with Philip as the farrier delivered shoes to our horse family. As glad as I was to be instantly helpful, I will admit that my feelings were a bit hurt that no one even mentioned the sale of the business!

I strolled back to the house in my shirt sleeves and noticed that there were a few wagons being unloaded at Sanditon House. I watched as two workers struggled to lug into the house a large stuffed bear standing on its hind legs, forever posed in a menacing stance. There were other trophies, but I did not pause as I passed by, because I did not wish to be seen by a member of the staff.

Perhaps Charlotte will allow me to sink into a bath before dinner. I entered the kitchen hoping to make my request to Sara so she might heat the water for the tub, but the space was abandoned.  
I walked through the house, but the absolute silence announced the absence of my family as though a footman was there to do the honors. I opened the front door and across the tract, the loggia was empty.  
Where could they be?  
I left my waistcoat abandoned on the bed, pulled out my shirt tail and took off my boots. After grabbing a towel, I set off to take a swim at the cove. On the beach I quickly shed my shirt and as I started to leave my trousers on the bench Charlotte yelled, “STOP!”  
As I turned around the applause was deafening and terrifying in turn! The Crowes, Babingtons, Stringers and Hankins were all present! As was my extended family! Graham and Susan helped Charlotte set up a surprise party to end all surprise parties! The thought that I had almost shared more of myself than any of them had ever seen before was saved by Charlotte’s yell, and I quickly donned my shirt as I received their congratulations.  
The afternoon was simply wonderful, and I was so pleased to experience this celebration with those I love! I could not have been more casually dressed and everyone teased me about the fact that I was planning to swim in the altogether.  
Jane Loving was busy introducing her new baby to the beach, but she said loudly enough to make Graham shout with laughter, “Papa does NOT swim in the altogether! He swims in the sea!”  
“Of course he does, Lady Jane! How very silly for us to think otherwise!”  
Charlotte was rather subdued as she sat on the bench with a pillow behind her back, but every one spoke to her and I made my way to her perch settling most happily down beside her.  
“What a great afternoon!” I said, taking her hand, “Thank you, Charlotte!”  
“Sidney, you know how the Parkers never do anything half way!” she responded.  
I looked at her quizzically. “I am not sure I am following you,” I said.  
Because I was sitting beside her, I had not looked fully into her face. I did so now, noticing the bead of sweat along her hairline. She was shuffling her feet in the sand covering up the water at her feet.

While all of us were celebrating, Charlotte’s water had broken and baby Parker was determined to join the party!  
“Please ask Sara if she will make a tepid bath for me…be subtle Sidney! I do not want our guests to panic! Ask Susan and Graham to watch after Randy and Jane. Would you have a quiet conversation with Hans and Lucy and then might you help me climb the hill? Either that or just leave me here and make everyone else head for home!”

In a few short minutes, I had accomplished all she asked of me and I marveled as Lucy climbed the hill with Sara, as casually as could be.

As I was talking to Ben, Graham scooped Charlotte up and had her on the hilltop is less than a dozen strides. “Anyone else need a ride up the hill?” he quipped. Charlotte reached up and kissed him on the cheek and I caught up with her as she reached the house.  
“Go back to your party, my love, you know this will take awhile and I don’t want you to miss a moment! Susan will close it down in about an hour! Please give my love to Graham! He brought me up the path like I was as light as a feather and if ever I felt like a burden it is today!”  
I held her face in my hands and kissed her, hoping to convey all that she is, all that she means to me. She walked into our house and Sara met her at the door. After she was gone, I turned back to my friends.  
Esther, ever observant and very shrewd, pulled me aside when I reached the beach.  
“Any way I might help, Sidney? I think I’ll take the girls home with me for a sleepover! Gabby and Grace will be most welcome.”  
“That should do it! Graham and Susan have the littles and the boys might embrace an excursion to the woods led by Jessup if I can encourage it! We will be fine. Just say a prayer for Charlotte…here we go.”  
As if by magic everyone expressed their best wishes on my next adventure and disappeared into the waning afternoon.  
When I got the boys sorted out, Jessup was delighted to lead an adventure into our wilderness above the beach. Ben, Joe and Michael would be joined by Philip and the two Jessup boys and I heard them whoop when they were asked if they would like to go.  
When I reached our room, I excused Lucy and Sara for awhile to go have tea in the library. I would help Charlotte get comfortable before I called them back.  
She was lying back in the tub and I washed her hair and rinsed it before leaving my clothes on the floor and joining her in the tub. I soaped her back, rubbing it until she sighed with contentment.  
When we were suitably clean, me minus the horse smell, her minus the salt and sand, I carefully massaged lotion onto her body like a child and after dressing her in a loose gown, carried her to bed.  
“Sidney, you are ever kind and tender, but I am not decrepit, you know.”  
I dressed in a clean shirt and fresh trousers before I answered her.  
“If I seem a bit worshipful of you Charlotte it is because this miracle you are performing never gets old. Your effort always takes my breath away and I am overcome with gratefulness and love.”  
I leaned over her then and kissed her. I opened our door to Sara and Lucy and began reading to Charlotte from the volume of John Keats poetry I had by the bed.  
“A thing of beauty is a joy forever:  
It’s lovliness increases; it will never  
Pass into nothingness…”

I read on into the evening. Charlotte drank a cup of tea and she napped against my chest. At midnight Lucy asked her to push and Hans came to check that all was well. It was not as long a process as I had expected, and a small protesting bundle announced her arrival within the hour with a lusty cry that would fit right in with the boys in our family!

The mighty voice belonged to a little girl with a dimpled chin and furrowed brow very much like her mother’s face when she is vexed with me. Her tiny hands were protesting our interruption of her comfort with her shaking fists and she greeted the world most unhappily. She was mini, but strong, and I fell in love with her enchanting antics instantly.  
“I think she mostly looks like a ‘Christine’," said Charlotte as we nuzzled her.  
I leaned back and looked at her,  
“I have never seen a ‘Christine’ before, Charlotte, but there are no other names that describe her, short of beautiful and ‘Beautiful Parker” is truly a mouthful! What shall we add to Christine? Alison? Julianne? Mary? Hope?”  
Before I finished my list, both Charlotte and Christine had fallen asleep and I held them there until Lucy took the baby so that I might allow Charlotte more comfort in our bed.

I write tonight, my children, to work off the nervous and thankful energy that is coursing through my body. When you all arrive home tomorrow, you will meet Christine, with her rosebud mouth and her eyelashes that seem to have been painted around her dark eyes so like your own. She has a head full of black wavy hair and her body is long and slim. You will like her, I know, and I can say without the shadow of a doubt, we will all wonder how we ever got along without her!

Aunt Lucy was splendid and she and Sara have gone home for the next few hours of rest. They deserve a vacation after the work of today and yesterday.

Into the quiet of my home I gather my wife to my heart and thank God, for one more precious gift of a Parker child.

Happy Birthday, Christine!

Good night my children!  
I love you, always believe it.

Papa


	13. Chapter 13

17 June

John Riley ordered some music from his favorite shop in Vienna and among the sheets was a piece by Beethoven from his 9th Symphony and the children were entranced by the music.  
The boys got the gist of it at once and profoundly tortured the tune on their violins. Grace played it on her Irish flute with simple and melodious gusto.  
Gabriella whistled ‘Ode to Joy’ as she walked through the house. She hummed it as she read or played with Jane. She practiced the music on the piano until we were all sure she would never play another composer. Morning, noon and nap time were invaded by the air with which the rest of the world had grown enamored, and members of the Windswept household began to wish had never made its way to English soil.  
When Gabriella sat at the piano, it was as though she were transported to a stage in a fine concert hall and she played her piece of choice flawlessly or repeated the work from the beginning until perfection was achieved.  
Charlotte verbally threatened her brother and begged him to bring Gabby more options for the piano. John Riley, having most probably been threatened by Charlotte before in his life, appeared at our door with more sheet music for my daughter as requested by his sister, but to no avail.  
Short of an issued ‘cease and desist’ order from the composer himself, we were doomed to endure the musical styling of the zealot within our household.  
As far as I swam in the cove, I could hear it play in my mind. When we were falling asleep at night the echo of the tune seemed to haunt the household. It was renewed every morning and as proud as I was of Gabby’s profound accomplishment on the piano, I was considering paying her to take up watercolors. It would be worth many, many, pounds sterling!  
So common was the musical offering in our household that Christine simply slept through it and seemed to awaken only on those few occasions that the house grew silent.

During an afternoon visit, Susan just laughed. Graham looked at me quizzically. “Don’t cha like a wee lass to play?” asked Graham.  
“I do, indeed! I only long for some sort of variation on the tune!”  
He swatted playfully at Susan when she said in a stage whisper, “It might be worse, Sidney! She could be trying to learn the pipes!”  
This silenced me, for I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt the bagpipes were beyond my endurance.

Charlotte’s flowers were growing heartily as were our children and we laughingly teased the boys about watching their feet grow. They were tall and stalwart, and I was so very proud of them. At a recent visit to the town, the baker informed Ben that he looked like me more every day and looked askance at us when we laughed because there was no blood tie between us to make resemblance possible. We were so fond of the boy that no one questioned our parentage of him.

Hans recently acquired a pair of spectacles for Joe which he happily wore. The wired rimmed acquisition ended his visually challenged squint. It also enabled us to tell him apart from Michael once and for all, for they had grown as true identical twins and often played jokes on us all. Unless they smiled and we noted the side of the dimple on each of their faces, we often were duped by their fun.  
My three older sons followed young Charles Babington around with unabashed idolization. I swam with them and Babers often took them through Sanditon on horseback. The foursome spent days hiking in the woods, stalking deer in Sanditon Park and building a catapult that would send their towels to the beach from the loggia so they would not need to be carried down the path. They ate anything Sara placed in front of them and they were never satiated.  
Randy, newly seven, spent his days drawing his family. His tongue was always evident in the corner of this mouth and he often captured his siblings in funny and memorable ways.  
Every child in the family was busy and focused on the things that brought them individual happiness, but no child was busier than Jane Loving. She was the self-appointed shadow to Charlotte in the care and keeping of Christine and the ‘life’ of her own baby doll mirrored the day-to-day. She was very focused and very serious and I had to scoop her into my arms to hug and kiss her when she used to chase me down for even a moment of my attention.  
“I am missing your hug, Jane Loving,” I told her one day.  
She put her nose against mine and said, “Oh, Papa! You know I love you, but I am so very busy and I think you might not have enough to do!”  
That made me laugh out loud and when I then reached for her Mama, she said, “I think Jane might be right!”

I find myself at my desk, in the middle of the day, instead of late at night as has always been my habit, writing of my life for you, my children.

I love you. As you well know my children, especially when the repetitive cacophony of our lives causes us to discount the individual passions we all feel! I am so proud of your music and art! I treasure your jokes and your antics! I appreciate you all fitting in your Papa for, at least, a few hugs and kisses. I promise I will find more to do in the days to come.  
With permission from Jane and her mother, perhaps I will go hold my new baby daughter while she sleeps. This is the current great joy of my life! Christine!

Until later. You know I adore you all,

Papa

15 July

On the morning of July 1, I walked the older children to the beginning of the three week Sanditon School Introductory Session.  
Philip was giddy with excitement and Gabby was dancing around me with pure happiness. Joe and Michael walked along as if they were headed for a torture chamber. Ben and Grace were decidedly unsure about the positives of this arrangement. Charlotte and I worked to sell them all on the wonder of study. Mostly, they were either not buying what we were trying to sell or simply wanted to experience it first, but they left me on the upper tract and asked to go the last quarter of a mile unaccompanied. They were, Gabby pointed out, mostly grown up and were not inclined to be kissed by their Papa at the door!

I watched the numbers of children from the town streaming toward Sanditon House, spit-shined and resigned. I stood on the tract until the last child entered and then I turned toward home.

Sara watched Christine while Charlotte and I spent time with Randy and Jane paddling at the cove. I tossed off my shirt and swam as far out as I could in my trousers, but I admitted missing the slush of water against my bare body and I did not swim as far as I might have done were I unencumbered.

I could hardly wait for teatime when the scholars would return for the afternoon and expound on their very first day. My disappointment was overwhelming when the only comment I got was a mumbled ‘just fine, Papa!’ from Ben and no description what so ever.  
Grace cuddled up with a book she was asked to report on. Gabby went straight to her room and the boys convened in the library to work through some math problems on the slate Philip had borrowed from his teacher.

For the rest of the week they were tight lipped and distant. When I voiced my concern to Charlotte she encouraged me to be interested in their new day to day lives but to stop pressing for so much information.

There was something jiggling my brain like an elbow in the ribs, so last Sunday, on the 7th, I sat up in bed realizing that the music, so constant and sometimes quite irritating, that had become the atmosphere of Windswept Cottage had simply stopped! It had been quiet for a week and I decided to investigate what had apparently become the loss of joy, or the Ode to Joy at any rate.  
So I asked what had happened at school.  
Philip shook his head, his eyes wide. “Don’t have naught to say!” said he, “Tis not my place.”  
Ben, Joe and Michael would not look me in the eye when I asked them simple questions about the impressions of their first week.  
I cornered Grace in the library and she bunched her knees up to her face and wept, so distraught that she could not answer me at all.  
Her reaction upset me so terribly, I called for Charlotte and we both waited for her to calm so we might speak to her.  
“You know, don’t you, Papa? Mr Renfroe told us he would know if we told you or anyone and we would ‘pay the piper’ if he received any negative feedback! He is terrifying you know! And Gabby…when Gabby…we just…” she was choked on her own tears and the sobbing began again.  
I was so concerned my body went cold. Charlotte sat beside Grace and just held her and I left the library in desperate search of Gabriella.  
The piano bench was empty and I left the drawing room to go to her room where I found her curled up on her side facing away from the door.  
“Gabby, I thought you might want to practice while everyone is off doing other things. No one with interrupt you and I haven’t heard you play all week!”

I was sitting on the foot of her bed when she sat up and made an awkward attempt to sit without using her hands. She covered them with her dress and swung her legs around to sit beside me.  
“I just do not feel like playing today.” she said quietly.  
“Please tell me, Gabby, why Grace is sobbing in the library and you are cowering in your room on this beautiful afternoon? The boys will not discuss school at all so it must be you who will tell me what I am missing! Please?”  
She put her right hand in my lap with the palm up and held her left hand where I might see it fully.  
Her hands had been, for a better word, striped, and were bloody and torn by repeated flailings.  
I was so furious I could not breathe. “Explain this, right now!”  
On the first morning of school, Gabby had eagerly raised her hand when Mr Renfroe asked which student would like to open the first assembly of the school session by playing a piece of music on the piano.  
“What is your name and tell us what you will attempt to play!” he responded.  
“My name is Gabriella Parker and I will play ‘Ode to Joy’.”  
“And might we expect perfection in your performance?” he asked.  
“I hope so!” said she, “for I have worked on it all summer!”  
She got up from her seat, walked across the drawing room of Sanditon House to perch on the piano bench where she played her song for her eager audience. When she was finished Mr Renfroe addressed the children.  
“Did you find that that piece was played to perfection or did you, as did I, hear a few unusual notes and discordant tones?”  
Ben piped up, “I have heard that piece a hundred times and Gabby always plays it well!”  
“And are you also a Parker?”  
‘Yes sir, my name is Ben Parker.”  
“Sit down, Ben Parker and make a note of the fact from this first day that no student within the Sanditon School will EVER achieve perfection under my watch! I counted at least four notes that were misplayed! Stick out your hands, Miss Parker!”  
From under his left arm pit, Mr Renfroe had removed a small leather riding crop and had slapped it across Gabby's hands which had been lifted up to him with trust. Her right hand bled at once and whelps formed along the ridges of her left hand.  
When Ben shouted out in protest, Mr Renfroe slashed Gabriella one more time.  
“Sit down, Mr Parker! Your sister has now paid for your outburst!”  
Gabriella sat down in her seat, stunned. The tears dripped down her cheeks without her notice and no one in the room made a sound.  
“Let me tell you all how we will proceed, students! You will not discuss my methods of discipline outside of school walls! Should I hear any negative discussion from the town I will come here among you to find the source and I will combat any negative claims. Now, do any of you feel I have acted unfairly to Miss Parker’s hopes of perfection?”  
When no child dared raise their voice to speak in protest he proceeded with the day.  
The boys were ashamed they had been unable to intervene on Gabby’s behalf. When Grace had dropped her slate the next afternoon, Gabby was thrashed again until my children realized she had become the designated ‘whipping boy’ for the week and any misstep by any child would result in further pain inflicted upon her by Mr Renfroe.  
By the end of the first week Mr Renfroe had given Gabby two and twenty lashes for real or conjured mistakes and she could barely hold her teacup, never mind a piece of chalk or a fork.  
The misery in my house was so great that when I finally confronted the children for the whole story even Philip cried.  
I have never been so angry in my life! I was livid, breathless with the great need to beat Renfroe within an inch of his life if not kill him outright.  
Sending Jessup to the town to bring Lucy back in the carriage, I sent Ben to bring Babers back to the house.  
I paced back and forth the length of the hall until everyone I had requested arrived. I had a speech planned, but when I saw Babers kind curiosity I could not speak. Instead I held Gabby’s hands out to him showing the flayed and bruised flesh. And I stood in front of him and cried as though I were the one who had felt such repeated torture.

Lucy rushed forward and took my child to soothe her, cleaning the cuts on her hands and putting salve into the wounds as though her life depended on saving a dying man who had been whipped at the stake.  
Charlotte was inconsolable. We both knew if left to my own devices Renfroe would not live to see dawn, but I had to contain my anger until Babington could figure out what might be done.

After he left, all the children stood around me in the library. Sara had the littles in the kitchen offering Jane and Randy a biscuit or two as a distraction.

“Tomorrow all of you will return to Sanditon School. All of you, except for Gabriella.  
When you see me appear after the assembly has gathered, I do not want you to wave at me or acknowledge my presence in anyway. Do not sit together so that you might disperse Mr Renfroe’s attention from our family. You do not know where Gabby is and leave it at that, please!  
Any person who touches you or… or… dares to hurt you in any way while telling you to keep those actions a secret is a man who has evil intent! Never, never hesitate to tell me or your Mama at once! What has occurred this first week of school is not acceptable on any level and I pray you will trust me to set it right.”  
In about an hour the Magistrate returned with Babington. The children repeated their awful tale and finally he addressed Philip.  
“Do you have anything to add, young man?”  
“Yes, sir! I grew up working in a stable and I have never seen a horse crop used with such wicked enthusiasm and I have been beaten a few times by men who did not like me much! I ran away from such a man, but if he had ever hit me thus, I might have killed him, sir.”  
His answer was plainly honest and the magistrate nodded at me before leaving. “I will go with Lord Babington to interview Renfroe. Mr Parker, I must ask you to wait here until we report back, understood?”  
He saw my agitation, but I gave my word.

They returned before dark and reported that Renfroe had denied the children’s report out of hand. He wondered where we had gotten our information and Babers said that he had merely heard there might have been issues, citing no sources. Babington had no grounds to fire him and my frustration bubbled over into rage.  
I looked at the magistrate. “What might we lawfully do?”  
“Catch him in the midst of administering child abuse, empower the children to act as witnesses and fire him, Lord Babington, the moment you have grounds!”  
He turned to me. “Mr Parker, you are a good man. You must not let this scoundrel cause you to react in any way that will take you from this precious family! Consider yourself forewarned.”  
Babington and I talked long after the children had gone to bed. Gabby’s hands were bandaged to her wrists and she fell asleep in our bed as Charlotte held her close.

The next morning, against my better judgment, the bandages were removed from her hands and she returned with my children to school. The part of my original plan where the children split up in the assembly was the only part the children knew of, and they did not even enter the building together.  
Babington and I entered through the kitchen of Sanditon House and stood in the butler’s alcove which had been painted but remained an open panel that could be entered with a push. The noise of the morning settled down and Renfroe swept into the room.  
“Good morning, students,” he purred “I thought we would start this week as we did last and ask Gabriella Parker to play her “Ode to Joy’ for us! We will of course, make any note of her lack of perfection because our willingness to offer her a critique will be the only way she will improve.”  
In the dark of the paneled room I ground my hand into Baber’s arm, afraid I would kill that man in front of a room full of children.

We heard Gabriella walk forward and slide onto the bench. There was utter silence in the room and she made no sound.  
I knew she could not play with her aching hands. She simply sat.  
The whir of the crop sounded in the quiet room and the children gasped as Renfroe hit the top of the piano.  
“I said, PLAY.”  
From the back of the room I heard Philip address him, “She cannot move her hands, they are so maimed! Why don’t you leave her alone!”  
“You aren’t a Parker! Why do you care?”  
“No, I am no Parker, wish to God I was, but I do know you are picking on a small girl who never wronged you by playing a song about joy! Why are you so mean?”  
“How dare you, young man! Come here”  
Philip shuffled forward and stood outside the range of the crop. “I will make you pay for your insolence! As a matter of fact, I will whip you both! Before he could move Cathy and Connie Crowe were before him their backs to Gabriella. Grace joined them as did all of her brothers. In a clear strong voice Joe said,  
“Looks like you will have to beat us all ‘cause you aren’t going to touch my sister again.”  
As the crop split the air around the children again Michael stepped forward and the whip split the skin across his chin just as Babington and I entered from the panel in the wall.  
I leveled the jackass with a right cross and the children cheered. From the side of the room I saw three young teachers join in the applause.  
Had Babers not stepped between us I could not have stopped, so badly did I want to end the despicable man’s life. He dropped the crop to cradle his jaw. Babington picked up the crop and moved it away from me.  
He held his hand up and the room quietened.  
“Stand up Mr Renfroe!”  
The big man shuffled to his feet.  
“Mr Tate, Mr Crowe? Are you here?” the magistrate answered by walking forward with Francis Crowe who stopped in front of his girls.  
“I would kill you myself,” said Crowe, “If there was not such a line of finer men ahead of me! You sir are not worth the bullet it might take to end your life!”  
“Are you going to stand there,” said Renfroe addressing the magistrate, “and allow these reprobates to interfere with the way I run my school?”  
Babington responded, “You are no longer affiliated with the Sanditon School in any way…You are fired for assaulting two minors entrusted into your care and the magistrate is here to arrest you in front of all of these witnesses!”  
Mr Tate took Renfroe well in hand and I turned away as Grace put her arm around Gabby still at the piano, crying with abandon.  
“Wait… Please do not cuff him yet!” Renfroe turned toward me with a snarl and I hit him squarely in the face, knocking him out.  
I shook my hand out for I was sure I must have broken a bone within it. The magistrate looked at Crowe and Babington.  
“Did you see Mr Parker assault this man?”  
“No!” said Crowe, drolly. “I missed it. Why he is flat on the floor?”  
“I thought he just slipped!” said Babington, winking at the kids. They all laughed.  
“Might you teachers meet with me in the office?” asked Babington, “Children please return to your homes for the day! I promise we will reconvene tomorrow.”  
I kneeled down to be eye level with my girls. “Are you alright?”  
“Yes, Papa,” said Grace. “We are so sorry we did not tell you straight away!”  
“Papa, can our dear school be saved?” said Gabby sniffing, “Lady Denham would be so disappointed if it were not!”  
I walked home with my children. I had nothing to say that would not cause my total breakdown. If only I had called that animal out before I gave him access to my beloved children! If only I had followed the inclination to accost him! I thought of Susan and Graham. They had seen him for who he was at once!  
“Gabriella?”  
“Yes, Papa?”  
“Can you ever forgive me for not protecting you as I always swore I would? I am so very sorry!”  
“I do not blame you in any way, Papa! I just wish you had hit him harder!”  
“Hear! Hear!” said Ben, “I hoped you would thrash him!”  
“I don’t know,” said Philip. “Whenever he wakes up he might wish he were dead! Those two punches were worthy of a professional fighter!”  
“I can not wait to tell Mama!” said Michael. When he caught my side eye he added, “Or not! You should tell her Papa!”  
Grace and Joe just walked along silently trying to sort out all that had occurred.  
The knuckles on my right hand were swelling and I felt like I needed a long swim.  
“Why don’t we gather everybody and go paddle at the beach?”  
And so I write tonight my children with a heavy but relieved heart. I do not hate Renfroe, but I do despise him and the way he treated my children. Michael will, no doubt, have a scar on his handsome face and Grace will forever carry the marks of this week on her hands no matter how well her hands heal.  
I have scars too, as does your Mama, my children. Sometimes the ones you can not see change your life more totally than the ones you can see.  
Good night, my dear ones! Tomorrow we will all go to school together. I will sit and observe until I am sure you are all going to be fine. It will give me something to do and I am eager to see where we will all go from here.

I love you. I wish I could do more to show you, each of you.

Papa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Dear Readers  
> I hope I have done this chapter justice! I believe that there is a special place in hell for any one willing to hurt a child. My husband and I have worked with kids who have been desperately hurt and the rage Sidney feels is an  
> encompassing and overwhelming feeling I have felt myself on behalf of our adopted children.  
> Thank you for reading my story! I treasure your comments and I appreciate all of you for taking this journey into the Parkers HEA with me!  
> ~Susan~


	14. Chapter 14

20 July

Christine woke early and her lusty cry roused my sleepy wife with a groan.  
“My goodness, my body has no memory of my early days on the farm! I am quite sure I was to the manor born and was never required below stairs before noon!” she grumbled as she does most days.  
“I will go get our little lady! Get a bit more rest.”  
I reached for the baby in the cradle and when Christine was dry and thoroughly admired by her Papa, I brought her to our bed where Charlotte held and fed her.  
“Thank you, Sidney. Those extra moments always help meet the demands of the day, starting with the tiniest one!”  
I put my arm around her and held them both as the first songs of the larks sounded from the parkland.

The teachers at the school, with the morning addition of John Riley to the early Assembly time, had provided a time of settled, and happy, learning for all my children. Dinner time, for the past three days had been a time of funny stories and observances, of new friends and profound silliness.

I did attend the assembly after the morning of Renfroe’s dismissal. Babers welcomed every child and many of their questioning parents, and all were satisfied with his dismissal.  
Removers appeared and took away the dead animals from the headmaster’s office and Babers hired them at once to come back to the school and move all the books that had been stored in the attic back to the shelves from which they had been evacuated. They had all been dusted and were now back in place in the library.  
The children had just started out the back door of the house for their morning walk to school when Magistrate Tate knocked on the door. “Call Master Philip Smith, back, please!”  
Philip returned at once and we sat in the drawing room while the magistrate addressed him.  
“Do you know who I am?” Tate asked Philip.  
“Yes, Sir! Saw you in action at school the other day!” answered the young man.  
“I have come here to tell you Mr William Forsyth has reported you for stealing two of his finest Arabian mares and has asked for your arrest, Philip Malberry!”  
If Philip were surprised, he made no overt movement to show it.  
“I did run from his stables, Sir! I came here last month hoping to get some schooling! But there were eleven horses in the Forsythe Stables when I come there, and ‘twas eleven when I left! I did not take the boots he gave me nor the livery either! I was as Mr Parker and his family found me, neither fed nor really clothed.”  
I said nothing but I listened to the conversation, fully supporting the honest approach of both.  
“The stable has twelve stalls. Horses live in all but one and the last was used for tack and feed. How many horses was there when you spoke to him?” asked Philip.  
The boy’s shrewd question made the law man look at him sharply.  
“I did not count them, but I will,” said he. “I need your word you will stay here, until I return to finish our conversation tomorrow or the day after.”  
Philip leaned forward and did not even glance at me before saying, “I will never leave this place until made to go, Sir. I love this household and this family, and I am lucky they found me! You have my word!”  
He was dismissed to run to school, and he left at a sprint.  
“I have a bit more work to do, before closing this case, Parker!” said Mr Tate. He turned back to me at the door and said, “Mr Renfroe was wanted in London for striking his accountant as well as several other criminal behaviors! I can say that the more I learned about him the more inclined I was to bring him back to you for another session of your punishment!”

He grinned at me. “You can always become my enforcer you know!”  
“Thank you, but I have not the temperament for even judgment and I shall leave that process to you!”  
“I think you are most fair, Mr Parker! Case in point is young Philip! I will return as soon as I have news. Good day!”  
Before I could get the door closed, Esther came up the walk.  
“Good morning, Sidney! I hoped I might have a cup of tea with Charlotte and see this new Parker baby my girls tell me looks like a painted doll!”  
She joined Charlotte in the library and was introduced to Christine by Jane Loving. I left them to their giggles and withdrew to my study. Before I had been seated five minutes, Jessup announced Babington.  
Without preamble, he said “Esther and I would like you to address the school next Friday on the close of the July introductory session at a meeting for the students and their parents.”  
“And say what, Babers?” I settled back into my chair from which I had risen after he entered. “I will not relive Renfroe’s antics publicly! Please, sit! I will ring for tea! Or we could just join our wives in the library.”  
“Oh, Good. Esther is already here! Let us do that, then,” said he.  
After we had settled, Esther said, “My aunt would have been thoroughly disgusted by the behavior demonstrated by that Renfroe creature and I cannot tell you how very heartbroken I am for Gabby and for Michael!”  
Charlotte and I had no words. There are none that accurately express how crushed we were for our children.  
Babington continued, “We have talked of nothing else for three days! We want you to agree to be the new headmaster, Sidney! You are a terrific administrator and businessman! You are the smartest man we have ever known, and we believe if Lady Denham were here, she would broker no protest to your immediate appointment!”  
Charlotte smiled happily. “Oh Sidney! You would be close to us in the land of books and children! What a happy opportunity!”  
“No!” I responded at once. “How many years have passed since university, Babers? What do I know about the modern ways of doing things when the end result is an education of the highest order?”  
“There is a generous endowment, one designed to support the school for the next twenty years!” Babington reiterated, “You can design the program, choose your very best staff, and no doubt, will become the pied piper of Sanditon! After the other day, you are already the hero to all of these students, Sidney, please agree to be their leader!”  
I was instantly intrigued and one look at Charlotte and I could see her obvious delight.  
My thought, my second thought, was my children. How would they cope with their Papa always on the scene? I asked for time to make my decision in order to talk about it to all of them.  
Babers was a bit disappointed that I did not leap with glee at the offer. I explained my desire to talk to my children and to consider both the pros and cons with Charlotte.

“I wish I could express how flattered I am, Babers…Esther. I promise to pick up this conversation again in a few days. Might you return then, for another cup of tea and an answer?”  
The visit was concluded after the second pot and I realized no matter my answer their friendship would be steadfast, and I was grateful for the gift of them.  
When they left and Charlotte was settled with the children, I walked to the vicarage.  
I relayed all that had occurred with the school at the feet of Reverend Hankins. He listened until I paused for breath.  
“How very astute of Lord and Lady Babington to select you for this very important calling! And it is, you know, a calling! You must decide for yourself if all you imagine can appeal to you within those walls, both good and bad. If you can see yourself, ten years from now, thrilled to greet your grown up students and welcome them back for a reunion on the lawn or twenty years from now presiding over the assemblies of the children of those you will now know so intimately, I do not know how you can say ‘No’ to what so obviously is your next step in the world!”  
“Might I rely on you, for your help, if I agree?”  
“I will say it again, it will be my honor to be of assistance in any way I can,” he answered.  
That afternoon I asked you, my children, what you wished for in a new headmaster, what you longed for in your school.  
Joe piped up at once, “I want learning to be fun and challenging. I want the headmaster to admire and challenge our doubt and teach us to understand every side of an argument!”  
Grace said, “You and Michael just want to debate everything!”  
“So?” Michael answered. “We want to learn, indoors and out! To play games and sing songs and be taught things by people who love us!”  
“Yes,” said Ben, with enthusiasm. “We want to be so stunned by the facts we learn we are sad to leave when it is time to come home in the afternoon!”  
“I want to meet new friends,” said Gabby quietly, “And I do not ever want to be hit again.”  
There was quiet in the room for a moment.  
“I just wish it might be you, Papa! I am so proud to be your child and I know you have so much you could teach us all!” she continued.  
I thought of her for a moment as the tiny newborn I carried in the flannel pocket against my chest all those years ago. She was tall and earnest and now forced to think beyond the protected innocence of many children her age.  
She perched on the arm of my chair and I inspected her hands. They were healing but would still be scarred. I kissed them.  
“What if your Papa could be the new Head of School? Would you be embarrassed?”  
Grace laughed, “You are the best of Papas! We are so proud you are ours and if we must, we could share you with our friends for a few hours every day, most happily!”  
Before I could finish our conversation, Jessup announce the arrival of Magistrate Tate and the children turned to leave.  
“You all may stay,” he told them, “Might one of you fetch Philip for me?”  
Mr Tate’s return was faster than I expected, and I could garner no decision from his countenance.  
Ben left for the carriage house at once and Charlotte poured the visitor a glass of lemonade.  
When the boys returned, Philip was running his fingers through his hair like a comb and although Ben returned to his chair, Philip stood in front of the magistrate.  
“I have just returned from the Forsythe Stables, young man, where I pointed out there was horse in every available stall and asked William Forsythe where the two mares had been housed that had been stolen. He could offer no explanation, no papers of ownership and no proof that the animals had ever existed. The accusation made against you has been dropped and you are free and clear to pursue school and to live here with the Parkers as long as you are welcomed!”  
My children were puzzled over the declaration but delighted by the closing statement and they gathered around him happily.  
I walked the Magistrate to the door. “You are a fine man, Mr Parker! I am glad I know you!” he said, as he placed his hat back on his head. “Good day!”  
The chatter from the library had turned toward other more lighthearted subjects and I sat on the divan with my arm around Charlotte, listening happily to their conversations.  
“Well?” she asked, “What are you thinking, my love?”  
“I am thinking that I need to accept this job if I am to feed these insatiable boys and fulfill the dreams of my girls!” I answered.  
She laughed. “Hmmm, Mr Parker! Oh, to be a student in your school!” she answered. “Are you ready for all the girlish crushes that you will be exposed to and all the blatant admiration of the boys you will teach to be fine men?”  
“Charlotte,” I whispered softly, “If every single day ends by this fire with you by my side there will never anything I will ever wish for again in this lifetime!”  
“Well then!” she said as she settled against me.  
Yes, well then!

The next Friday morning there were more than a hundred parents and students crammed into the drawing room of Sanditon House. Before I was certain of my words, Babington introduced me as the morning speaker, and I stood before the people of my town and their children.

“When you came this morning, driven by your curiosity and your hopes for the future, you placed your faith in the ability of the staff here to offer wonder and knowledge, fulfillment and joy. That is what learning should supply and what the Sandition School will always promise you all.  
There will always be food for thought and plenty of food for hungry bellies, books to read, art projects and games. Music will be highly encouraged and there will be friendships made here that will last for a lifetime.  
I am a father, a lifelong student and I have much to learn. I hope you all will encourage me, for I have accepted the job of the new Head of School from Lord Babington this morning.”  
My children led the whoops and shouts. Esther led the applause. Charlotte’s smile was a beacon of peace from across the crowd.  
The morning was a happy welcome from students, their parents and staff and I was ecstatic.  
Tonight, I write, my children, a shortened version of all that has occurred as I must get ready for school!  
With God’s help, I will serve you well, I promise.  
Good night, my children! I treasure your belief in my abilities! I look forward to our mutually fulfilling future and I am more positive, than I have ever been, about my destiny.

Sweet Dreams! I hope you know my great love for you all,

Papa


	15. Chapter 15

11 August

On the first Sunday in August, the Willingden Heywoods ventured to Sanditon for the christening of Christine.

Georgianna is also here for a month and she and Otis have a new son named Victor after Georgianna’s father. She was amazed to meet Lucy and to hear of my upcoming venture at the school. Settled well into adulthood, the two of us have finally made peace with our interloped past life together and she finally understands how impossible it had been for me to provide her with a loving experience as her guardian when self-loathing and despair had been the highlights of my own emotional health.

Only coming to visit us in England during August, she avoids the chilly air and the rain as much as anyone can when traveling and she is always glad to return to the balmy land of Antigua when the visit is over.

“No one…I mean NO ONE, Sidney, would have ever convinced me you would have ended up running a school! Yet, I cannot honestly imagine any one better suited for constant care and ultimate right decisions on behalf of young people! You can certainly glower at the masses and terrify them into submission! This new responsibility will be fun to hear about! Maybe I will no longer top your list as the hardest young person you have ever dealt with in your life!” said she. Her eyes were sparkling with mischief and I knew she would be more interested in the hijinx that occurred than any success I might hope to report.

Georgianna Christine Isobel Parker took one look at Reverend Hankins and screamed bloody murder. She cranked up before he spoke and slowed only to take a deep breath before shaking with heartbreak in his arms as he introduced her and blessed her. She was waving her fists with rage. Everyone in the congregation chuckled over her disgust and Crowe piped up from the third row, “Stop pinching her Reverend!”  
The vicar was mortified as he said, “Yes, well, sometimes one is glad to give a child of God back to her earthly parents as quickly as possible!” He doused her with a hefty hand full of water before handing her back to Charlotte.

Christine was still quaking with anger. Her bottom lip was curled out and the tears poured from her eyes like a spigot. I took her from Charlotte and walked out the front door to stroll along through the church yard and I ended up at the foot of Lady Denham’s place of rest. Her headstone was placed facing the cliffs and the sunrise every morning. Hymns from every service floated over her grave every time there was a service at church and there was no excuse for anyone in attendance for not paying their respects.  
“Well, Lady Denham, I am taking over your school! I hope I will serve the children and the dreams of your heart well. This is Christine, the newest addition to the Parker family and today was her christening day of which she has protested until we had to escape to the yard in order for Reverend Hankins to remember his prayers. Your dreams for Sanditon are continuing quite well. No one is enjoying life near the beach in summer more than the Babington family… you would be very proud of the wonderful parents Babers and Esther have become. We all miss you. No one here has your wit or your interest in all that is occurring. I sure wish you were still here to guide me at the school.”  
My conversation rambled but my words comforted Christine and she quieted in my arms. When I turned around, I was embarrassed to see my entire family clustered around the walk behind me. It was Gabriella who joined me to say hello to the good lady, with no hesitation and she took my arm as we walked home.  
Our house was chaos as we fed all the Heywoods, the Parkers and all of our friends. As always there was a lot of music, a lot of laughter and more noise than seemed naturally possible in one place. The guest of honor slept through it all and Charlotte left Christine in her cradle to nap right in the middle of the clamor of the afternoon.  
It was James Stringer who sought a moment of my time to express his best wishes and hopes for the Sanditon School. He is never ruffled and has an even personality that that is always sunny and positive, unless someone takes advantage of his workers and then, he is the most formidable adversary anyone might face. Tom had a taste of that anger and I will pray I never do.  
Next week when I start to sort through all the students, I realize that I will be responsible for an average of two kids from every family from town. I want to reach them all. I hope the teachers will be able to find the ways to express the lessons with fun and love. I am very sure of only one thing: I must be completely out of my mind to think I am up to this task!

I was pacing in our room in the middle of the night. I checked Christine in her cradle, looked in on the girls and then my sons. I ate an apple someone left on the table in the kitchen. I had three glasses of port (they were small ones, children!) and I ended up in the library with my old copy of Heraclitus.

There were no words of comfort or pearls of direction for my future. I felt like I was diving into the rocks, hoping I might hit a pool. I am not naturally brave, just on occasion I am over- confident in the face of nefarious behavior and I react. No one has ever witnessed the shaking that follows my actions or the fear that follows me like a shadow for days after I leap onto on moving coach or wrench someone I love from a person set on accosting her. (These are only two examples and I have many more!)  
The truth was, I was certainly not the same man and the school was unlike any river I had ever imagined.

My confidence would need to come from another source and I hoped it would be a synergistic effort between capability and hard work, but I knew only time would tell.

On the second Tuesday in August, Charlotte reminded me of the musicale evening, and I left my paperwork and myriad concerns behind, more than willing to be transported into the fun of the night.

Graham and Susan were the first to arrive and Jessup took the carriage for the Hankins. Sara and Charlotte had a large trestle table moved to the front and the refreshments were plentiful.  
Everyone enjoyed laughter and being together. At the midway break before my happy Scot was to take the stage and tell his story of the hour, I lit the torches on either side of our make-shift stage. Crossing the path to the other side of the tract, a man stepped from the shadows and I was momentarily startled by his appearance.

Although dressed as a gentleman, for all the pieces of wardrobe were there that might suggest his status, his shoulder length hair stood up and out in blonde spikes and he wore a pair of spectacles so far down his nose that I expected he might lose them any minute. He sported a rather dour expression (quite out of place at such a delightful meeting as the night represented) and seemed determined to appear as though he was expected.

I greeted him, “Good evening, Sir. My name is Sidney Parker. Welcome to my home. You are…?”  
“Obviously lost,” said he. “I am searching for the Sanditon School where I am a teacher. I am arriving late in the day as you can see, and the coach driver left me down the tract with little direction other than ‘up on the hill’ to follow.”  
We stood for a moment in a rather awkward silence. “Oh, I am Harrison Milton, most recently of Marrakech, where I taught science and explored the ancient sites of Morocco.”

I reintroduced myself, adding that I am the headmaster. He gave me the once over often received by a pauper at the court of a ruler.  
He swayed on his feet at I escorted him to the table for some sustenance. He was at least three inches taller than I am, built like a twig and his loose clothing might have been due to unintentional weight loss. He certainly ate as though participating in a meal had not been an option for a long while.

“I was hired by a man called Renfroe!” he said, “Is he no longer here, then?”  
“No.” I answered, “His time at the school was limited to the first week of the summer session when his educational opinions on discipline were not welcomed by the parents of the school.”

“I can well believe it,” said he. “He departed Morocco after removing the skin on the shoulder of a Maharajah’s servant with his riding crop over a spilled mug of tea. The problem was the servant was the old man’s son and there was hell to pay. He barely got out with his life in the dark of night! Renfroe’s a nasty bastard!”

“Were you not supposed to be here for the introductory weeks in July?” I queried.  
“I was stuck on a ship and at the whim of the weather. Am I too late, then?”  
“Not at all,” I said, “I plan to keep the teachers Renfroe hired, at least until Christmas and I am glad to extend that trial period to you as well. I am going to determine if the attitudes of fairness, intellectual challenge and teaching ability mirror the goals of the school. After that, contracts will be issued for three years at a time. Does this interest you?”  
“Yes,” he said. “I will not disappoint! Please do not judge my abilities by my appearance, sometimes I look far worse!”

I laughed, in spite of myself. He reminded me of Crowe in many ways but surpassed him in his absolute ambivalence of the opinions of others. This young man was as unique as the city from which he hailed was exotic. I would be interested to see what he might add to the staff.  
When Graham started his tale about a narwhal and a ship wreck, I offered to walk with Harrison Milton to the school and marveled that all he owned was in a rucksack that looked as though it had survived a couple of major animal stampedes.  
The small apartment was ready for him on the second floor and he offered neither a positive opinion of the school nor of the accommodations provided to him. Before I was again at the front door the house was in darkness.  
I missed most of the music of the evening, and my head was full of the Milton fellow’s attitude and countenance. His 'devil may care' attitude was fine and well, but was not appropriate should the students start to emulate his dismissal of dress and behavioral codes. And yet, I liked him very much.  
Charlotte had seen Milton from a distance but did not meet him. She had very little to say when I described him and cautioned me about my tendency to make split second judgments. She is right, of course, but he was really a wild card and I wanted to make sure I made no poor decisions where the staff was concerned.

By midnight, the baby was joined by the two youngest children, Randy and Jane Loving in our bed. Both were terrified there were narwhals waiting to eat them down at our cove (I think something was lost in translation) and were sure that there would be a ship wreck just any day. Graham had managed to tell a story that ignited such imagination in Randy and Jane that it took most of the night to talk them away from the edge of certain doom.

Christine slept in Charlotte’s arms and the two finally dozed against me as I pondered hungry narwhals and certain shipwrecks as metaphors for my life. Susan and Graham had taken Grace and Gabby on a trip to the Lake District which would conclude before the start of school and the boys were building a fort in the wilderness near the house, a clubhouse where they could spend the night and live off the land…with a little help from Sara Jessup and her provisions of fresh bread and lemonade.

Arthur and Lucy are expecting, which I find amazing. Not the process, but the fact that my little brother who is always honest, always kind and forever optimistic will be a father of a tiny child who will grow up with extraordinary parents.  
I would not trade one moment of being a parent for all the tea in Britain, but I still have my doubts about learning on the job and I have been doing this for more that a decade. There never is a guidebook that comes with a child, not for a parent. Certainly, there is no system for educating a child. If there were such a thing I would have already subscribed.

I was going to have to dive into the school and all it might require, and stop walking along the water’s edge kicking up waves of doubts and negative possibilities.  
A little hand reached up to stoke my whiskers and Jane Loving rolled further under my arm to nestle over my heart. It just doesn’t get any better than this and I had the sudden realization that my doubts were only burning up time that I would never get back.

The next morning with only three tiny people at home I was munching toast with Randy in the kitchen and holding Christine while Charlotte bathed. When Charlotte returned to the kitchen she was carrying Baby Aunt Lucy, Jane’s doll, and there was no view of Jane in sight.  
The front door was locked and I knew she would not head to the beach by herself. I had covered every inch of the house twice before I glanced back into the library and caught sight of a little bare foot sticking out from behind the divan.  
She was hidden behind the furniture, leaning against the wall sucking her thumb as hard as she could, as though it were coated in honey. Her eyes were closed, and she did not hear me as I found her hiding place. Only when I sat down did her eyes fly open and she blushed. We were both scrunched against the wall, my long legs reaching far beyond the confines of the niche into which she had crawled. She did not remove her thumb. Just pulled at it with little desperate tugs of her mouth.  
“Jane Loving, what are you doing? We were missing you and I was afraid you were lost!”  
“Papa. I just….just missed my thumb and I just needed to make sure it was still here and it tasted the same. I have missed it alot just a little while.”  
I gathered her up in my lap. “And does it? Does it still taste the same?”  
“No, Papa. A bit like dirt, I think.”  
“You had to find out though, right?”  
“Yes…”  
We sat in companionable silence, this child of my heart, with her thumb posed for immediate return to her mouth, but she held onto my shirt sleeve with her other hand and gazed at my face.  
“Papa? Are you ever afraid?”  
“Every single day, Jane, everyday!” I assured her.  
“Do you suck your thumb when no one is looking?”  
“Much, much worse! I worry and I wonder about my decisions and I do not sleep!”  
“Ohhhh! Well, you can borrow my thumb, Papa!”  
She offered it up, sticking out of her little fist.  
“Thank you, but no thank you, honey.”  
She looked at it then, inspecting it as though she had never seen it before.  
“If I stop sucking my thumb, will you stop worrying?” she asked me.  
“That is a big thing to ask, Jane Loving! I will try if you will!”  
“We have a deal, Papa.”  
We sat for a few more moments, hidden away from the world, enjoying the comfort one for the other.  
I walked her back to the kitchen where Randy handed over a piece of toast and they happily shared the marmalade.  
Mine was a promise I intend to keep. Worrying is just wasting time. There is too much to do than to waste another single moment pondering what could go wrong.

Tonight, I write my children, fully making a plan for keeping the bargain I made with Jane Loving.  
Worries, in themselves, are part of life. It is true, but when worries take over they begin to run your life. I have certainly allowed them to take over my life in the past few days and I trust you will be far wiser that I am when it comes your time to consider all the possibilities of what will happen in your futures.  
Before I came to write tonight, I watched the moonlight play across your mother’s face. She looked relaxed and as beautiful as always. Hers is the sleep afforded to those of us who trust that tomorrow will have enough to ponder without borrowing tomorrow’s trouble to add to today.

Sleep well my children, by the lakes in the North, in the trees along our beach and in your little beds. Wherever you are tonight, I cover you with my love and my hopes for a great tomorrow as we all start a new adventure.

Papa


	16. Chapter 16

27 August

Could it truly be that we are ready? The Sanditon School has tables and benches. There are many slates and enough chalk to circle the globe. There are maps of the world and scientific charts. Menus for lunches have been planned and schedules finalized with teachers and parents.  
On Monday, September 2, the first official school day will start at half past eight in the morning. I for one, can hardly wait.

Late yesterday Graham and Susan returned home with Gabby and Grace who were so joyfully tired from their adventuresome journey to the lakes that they simply made promises for more details of their travels before falling into their beds before dusk had turned to dark.

My wouldbe pirates have moved home from their cliffside clubhouse giving Charles Babington a sorrowful goodbye as he headed back to Eaton.  
Christine has been the only one of us to continue her long hours of sleep followed by her demanding acceptance of life.  
“Wooo,” said Jane Loving, brushing her hair aside in exactly the same habitual way Charlotte does, “Wonder if she will ever be happy for a whole day?”  
Charlotte said, “Jane, Christine is working so very hard to sleep enough to gather strength enough to eat enough so that she can grow enough to repeat it all the next day! In the process we try to tease a smile from her and she simply gets cross that we demand so very much from such a tiny little girl.”  
Jane Loving looked at her little sister with total bemusement. “Maybe she needs to learn to suck her thumb?”  
“Maybe, but I think,” Charlotte, continued, “that we remember to just love her just like she is right now! She will grow up soon enough and she will be ready then for you to teach her all that you know!”  
“Mama! You are so silly! What will I ever teach Christine?”  
“Jane Loving! You are a very smart girl, and you teach me and your Papa, all of us really, something new every day!”  
She glanced back down at Christine snuggled down into the cradle. “So, she’s here to stay then?” said Jane Loving, most disappointed.  
I scooped her up as the furrowed brow reshaped her little face.  
“Yes, Jane. We love Christine and we have promised her a wonderful place to grow up, just like we promise you! We know you will share with her, protect her and be a wonderful older sister!”  
“Hmmm,” she responded, doubtfully. “If you say so.”

Randy climbed on my lap after breakfast and said, “Let’s pick a book, Papa.”  
I picked up a picture book on horses and he shook his head. “No, no, no, Papa! Pick any book with words!”  
The nearest book to my chair was Heraclitus and I knew that was not what was required.  
I handed him a book of fairy tales.  
He randomly opened the book and began to read in a clear, somewhat hesitant voice:

‘And the young woman in her flowing red cape slipped through the woods, hiding from the enor..er…e nor-mouse wolf behind the nearest tree where she…’  
“Young man! Are you reading your Papa a story?”  
He grinned at me happily. “Mamma has been teaching me this summer!”  
Charlotte ruffled his hair. “I am very proud of Randy! When he makes up his mind he wishes to do something, he does not give up!”  
“I will be ready for school Papa! Maybe just not yet. I think Mama may need me to help with the girls while you are at school.”

“You are very right, Randy! Thank you for your great surprise! Any time I might read with you I will! Would you let me do that?”  
He looked up at me thoughtfully and then he whispered, “If Mama will not mind! She is my very favorite teacher and I love her, so… you can read with me if she says so! Alright?”  
I reached up and took her hand. “When in the world have you had a chance to teach our son to read while managing a new baby and telling Jane Loving all she needs to know to grow into a great lady?”  
Jane giggled. “I just AM like my Mama and I will grow up a great Lady!”  
“Yes you will, indeed, Jane Loving! Mama is the greatest lady I have ever known!”  
Charlotte perched on the arm of my chair and hugged the three of us close.  
“I love you all, so very much! Perhaps Papa will let us come to school, once a week, and take tea with him! Then you both can see your Papa in action and see your older brothers and sisters as they grow smarter. What do you think about that?”

It was decided. Every Thursday at half past eleven, Randy and Jane Loving would come to school with Charlotte to ‘see’ school and drink in the many sights that might be seen by studying the older children.

The boys longed for a celebratory swim that afternoon, (no girls allowed) and as soon as Philip joined us from the stables we set off for the beach. Summer was drifting toward Autumn and the water already felt cooler on my feet.  
They paddled and splashed and floated in the current. Michael pretended to bite my heel under the water and his brothers roared with laugher while I swam away from the threat beneath the waves. Randy was content to paddle and look for shells among the rocks on the sand.  
Ben and Philip swam lengths across the cove and the twins just seemed to soak up the afternoon as though to store it away for a day when the memory would be worth daydreaming over.  
That night John Riley joined us for dinner and as it always does the evening turned to music as the sun dropped away.  
By nine o’clock, the loggia was full of the usual merry makers. When the music was at a break, Graham started a tale about the mystical creature that lived in a Scottish lake, Loch Ness. When I looked over at Jane and Randy, their eyes standing on stems from their faces with fear, I motioned to him for a change of direction in his story.  
‘And when the wee sweet bairn put their toes in the waters of the loch, the creature drinks the sugar that flows from their toes and is content to swim far away to haunt other shores where the laddies and lassies are not so well behaved!’  
Jane clutched my hand and whispered behind her hand, “Papa? Is Scotland way faraway?”  
“Yes, my darling girl! There is no Monster of Ness here!”  
“Oh, well good,” she answered, “Because Randy was getting ready to be really afraid!”  
“Was NOT, Jane Loving!” he said clutching my other arm. “Besides what,” he added meanly, “It’s a good thing Scotland is far away ‘cause I have seen your feet and they do not have sugar toes!” A small slap fight resulted, in the middle of which was their Papa. I had had enough in moments.

I carted them back to the house, a child held under each arm. While we walked fatigue and sleep rolled over them and Sara nestled them into their beds with a story while Charlotte and I returned to our guests.

The warm starlit night seemed to settle in the souls of all in attendance and spread a halcyon net over us all.

Charlotte woke me in the early hours of the morning. Christine had recently had a midnight snack and was dry and content in her cradle. The rest of the children seemed as though they were thrown into their beds before they had fallen asleep. We tiptoed among them, tucking in a foot or an arm and kissing each brow.  
Without a word we walked to the cove and I dived through the cool water, refreshing and comforting. Charlotte doffed her gown to walk in the shallows to the deeper water, a goddess from a painting: beautiful, confident, and strong. If my feet had not reached the bottom when she finally reached me, I might have drowned, for Charlotte, as she ever does, simply took my breath away.  
The water sluiced between our clasped fingers, molded our skin together in the dark and we floated in each other’s arms, content to experience our minute place in the universe.  
We returned to the house in silence and I saw Charlotte turning her face up to the bright night sky. “This night with you,” she said, “is sheer perfection.”  
No truer words have ever been spoken. We dressed for bed, the smell of the sea in our hair and the gift of the night in our hearts and minds, and we fell asleep at once wrapped up in each other as if were newly wedded.

The next morning, I walked to town. I stopped at Trafalgar House for news of my nieces and nephews. I visited with Hans and looked in on the Emporium. I was a little embarrassed because since turning my half of the business over to Crowe, I had not given any aspect of it another thought.  
My last stop of the morning was the butcher shop and I hoped to catch Mrs Smithfelden-Jones without having to call more formally at her home. There were two strapping lads assisting the butcher and a young girl carving up a chicken. She could not have been older than seven and I marveled at her skill with a cleaver! I would not have allowed my own children to hold, much less wield. such a utensil with such abandon.  
“Well, hellooo Mr Parker!” the lady greeted me, “What brings you so far west of town?”  
“I have familiarized myself with all the students planning to attend school on Monday and I am not sure I recognize the names of your daughter’s children among them. Have they yet to arrive in Sanditon?”  
“They are here, as you see, working in the shop!”  
I spoke to the children who appeared to be mannered enough. “We still have room, if they wish to attend!” I told her.  
She walked out to the street and I followed her, closing the door behind us.  
“Can you tell me no one will make fun of their meat stained clothing or older ages? Can you promise me the experience will give them more that I might offer in the evenings at home?” she asked me, vehemently. “I heard about Renfroe,” she continued, “and good riddance, but are you sure the teachers he hired aren’t of the same ilk?”  
“I assure you, Madame, if they are, they will not be teachers at our school very long! I hope that I will see you all on Monday morning, half past eight! I believe they will enjoy the opportunity to grow and learn. I hope you will entrust them to us! Try the school until December. If your family is not pleased, we will of course, allow you to return to your home system for educating your children without hesitation.”  
Her mutinous façade indicated that my words were falling on deaf ears and I was not sure I would see the children anywhere near the school. I bid her good day and made my way back to Windswept.

I write tonight my children, clinging to the last vestiges of hope for all the children in the town, satisfied that I have now reached every family with an invitation to try our school. I am hoping for the best for them all and praying we will meet the needs of you all as well.

Monday is just around the corner and we will see what is in store for us all.

Good night, dear ones. I love you,

Papa

5 September

The first four days of school have rolled along without a hitch. There has been music and laughter and hours of silent learning. When I can hear the quiet, I leave my office and walk the halls to make sure my students have not run away.  
How pleased am I to see such concentration and diligence! The behavior was enough to make me a bit cocky, so pleased was I by our planning and effort. On the back row, sharing a bench with their sister between them were the three Smithfelden-Jones grandchildren. I was so pleased when they turned up on Monday morning. They had been clean and on time every day this week and it was just a matter of time before they felt more of a sense of belonging.

There was such a social strata everywhere in England. Within the walls of Sanditon House, Lady Denham wanted children to be celebrated for just being children. This would be the tallest order of the school, for while we pushed equality and sameness, we had many parents who were ready to oppose this attitude in their offspring when they arrived back at home each afternoon. I believe this is a quest we will have to renew every morning.  
This morning was my promised tea with Jane Loving, Randy and Charlotte and I awaited their arrival at the front of the school. I glanced into the large sitting room at the front of the house in which Harry Milton had begun a lesson on the attributes of an oasis in the dessert near Morrocco.  
His students were enraptured and I did not really look into the room until my family members were following me back to my office. Randy tugged my arm as Jane Loving walked right into his class and sat down on the floor near the front. We stood at the back as Milton pulled a tarp off of a trestle table on top of which was a chair covered by a coverlet. 

He climbed up on the table, patting the ruck sack that had been shaped into the head of a camel. He threw his leg over the chair and looked down his nose at the class through his sliding glasses.  
Whispering he said, “Imagine if you will, my students, that you, too, are on the back of your camels, after crossing the dessert. You are tired! You are hot and you are very, very thirsty! What is the first thing you will look for in this dessert oasis?”

The room was quiet. Perhaps the students were shy that I was standing in the back of the room. Perhaps they were waiting for the pretend camel to throw their teacher back to the floor! The straps of the satchel were the reins on his camel head and he silently rode the ‘camel’ waiting on an answer.  
Jane Loving piped up, “I think your camel might like a drink of water!”  
He looked down at her. “And who are you?”  
“My name is Jane Loving Parker… may I pet your camel?”  
Without hesitation, he swung down from the chair to lift her up to the satchel and she stroked her hand along the folded head.  
“What is the name of your camel?” she asked him. Some of the students twittered, but Jane was so transported by her imagination that she did not notice.  
“Her name is… Sadie! Sometimes she sneezes and bites!” he added.  
Gently he set Jane on the floor.  
“Jane is right you know my adventurers! We would be most grateful to find water at our oasis! A drink would be our top priority!”  
He climbed back on top of his ‘camel’.  
“Would there be trees in our oasis?”  
Some heads nodded and the class began to express interest in the subject.  
Jane stood and wandered back to me, reaching up to hold my hand. Without a word, she walked away to join me for tea.  
Charlotte said, under her breath, “Well, if that was Mr Milton, he gets credit for kindness!”  
I totally agreed.  
“Papa?” said Jane Loving. “I think your teacher needs a new camel!”

“Thank you, my darling. I’ll keep that in mind.”  
The day ended without any mishap and I was delighted that Randy and Jane felt so much at home in my office. They discovered the bottom drawer of my desk was full of drawing paper and picture books and happily passed an hour while Charlotte examined Lady Denham’s book titles.

Tonight, at dinner, Grace said, “Jane Loving, my friends were talking about your visit and about how smart you are!”  
Jane looked at her in wonder. “How do they know?”  
“Because you answered the teacher’s question!” said Ben promptly.  
“Yeah,” said Michael proudly, “Some of the students in that class did not even know what an ‘oasis’ was!”  
Jane ate her potato while they all talked around her.  
“I just thought it was very sad,” she said.  
The conversation stopped as they all looked at her. Finally Joe said, “What was sad, Jane Loving?”  
“Your teacher has such bad eyes that he thought he was riding a camel and I did not want to hurt his feelings!”  
My children laughed heartily but I do appreciate the kindness Jane Loving intended. My concrete thinker! She was willing to imagine a camel to protect the feelings of someone else, but not with the intention of pretending to experience what it might be like to ride one!

My children, this week we have all slept like we were exhausted from lifting rocks and moving logs! Working your brain can be very tiring, but expanding your mind for hours is exhausting!

Thank you for your eagerness to learn, for your willingness to trust that your teachers have lessons worth learning! Thank you for realizing that there is treasure in the unintentional actions of your little sister! You are all respectful and kind and I am so very proud of all of you!  
“So,” said Philip, reaching for more bread, “What does a camel look like anyway?”  
Randy hopped down from the table to retrieve the slate by the door. Quickly he drew a camel. He captured the homely head, the lumpy back and the ambivalent attitude of the dromedary exactly. He held the slate out for Philip’s perusal.  
“Think I’ll stick to horses, thanks!” Philip said grinning.  
We all laughed and I wondered what my children might learn tomorrow.

Good night my scholars! I am so grateful for you all!

Sweet Dreams,  
Papa


	17. Chapter 17

25 September

School was over for the afternoon and the clear blue skies made those walking away from school linger on the paths homeward, faces toward the heavens, not at all eager to rush home to chores and familial obligations.

Charlotte had walked to the stable asking Philip to saddle the mare only to find that her horse would not be happily taken away from her feed, so Charlotte instead requested Drifter. Philip had given her a leg up and she set out, astride, planning to circle Sanditon Park and pick me up from school.

When dusk was upon us, I began the walk home toward home, Philip met me passing the stable. After a moment of idle chat, he said, “Mrs Charlotte missed you then?”  
“I have no idea what you are talking about!”  
He repeated the short session at the stable earlier reporting that Charlotte had set out to cross Sanditon Park more than two hours before. Had she circled the tract more times than four, she still would have been back at the school in plenty of time to mark my departure.  
A quick look into the stable assured us both that she had not returned, and Philip saddled the mare, mounting her to walk back and look for Charlotte in the other direction.  
Milton had shared the story:  
The three ‘highway men’ tired of their lack of food and the fact of being so far away from a highway that would relinquish any valuable spoils, had settled into the boys pirate clubhouse almost as soon as it had been vacated by my sons. Having eaten some aged fruit and the small provisions that had been left behind, they were feeling mean, misinformed and desperate when my beautiful wife crossed their path on the back of Drifter. They surrounded her at once.

Stroking Drifter’s head, one man grabbed the bridle, one molested Charlotte’s calf and the third waved a pistol.

“Climb down to us now, little missy! You might not have food, but you jolly damn well will provide some fun and games!”  
The man with the audacity to have his hand on my wife, tugged on her skirts in an effort to unseat her. Drifter reared, unbalancing him but also throwing Charlotte back on the saddle and she fell into the dirt, surrounded by the filthy trio who descended on her at once. Her spencer was ripped from her shoulder as the man brandishing the weapon encouraged the assault by his peers.

Walking from the trees, eating an apple while apparently enjoying a singular stroll, appeared none other than Harry Milton. He stopped close to the unfolding mayhem and spoke to the three.

“I sure hope you know what kind of maelstrom you are unleashing on yourselves! I know her husband and he will kill you for looking at his lady, and you my friends have now ventured far beyond certain death.”  
“Shut the purty talker up, Jake!” shouted the man who had pinioned Charlotte to the ground.  
Before they could assess the threat Milton brought to their meeting, Charlotte connected the toe of her boot with her assailants groin sending him writhing into the dust.  
Milton had thrown himself on the man with the gun in an epic wrestling match that ended in a single gunshot that I heard from the path before running to the scene.  
The third attacker could not decide what to do and I was in the middle of their little skirmish before Charlotte had risen from the ground.  
Slamming my fist into the side of his head was the least I could do and it sent him spiraling on top of his friend.  
I knelt beside Charlotte.  
“I’m alright, I think. Just help Mr. Milton.”  
“Damn. Dropped my apple!” Milton said, jumping up. “Seems like his gun discharged and shot him through the back! Your wife alright? I thought they might rape her, for sure!”  
His glib response added to my fury and had Charlotte not laughed helplessly I would have pulverized him on the spot.

“Capture my horse, will you, Milton, and follow me to the house! Hand me his gun, will you?” He passed me the gun and I shot the man on top in the foot.

He screamed at the unexpected agony and Milton said, “Told you! You took a swing at the wrong bee’s nest!”

Jessup rode up at that moment, having cleared the park from the opposite direction. He rode off at once for the Magistrate and I knelt beside Charlotte on the ground helping her to turn over onto her back. There was blood from her midsection to her knees, her clothing was torn, and her bonnet had been ripped from the ribbons stilled tied around her neck.  
“Dear God, Charlotte! Be still! Have you been shot?! Do you ride, Milton? Go to town for the doctor and bring either of them to Windswept at once!”  
He mounted Drifter with little effort and set off for town as though the hounds of hell were chasing him.  
I lifted Charlotte in my arms and started for home, knowing if the men departed from the spot, I would hunt them down and kill them before the Magistrate might save them.  
I used the toe of my boot to tip up the chin of the man underneath the man I shot.  
“If you want to die today, you leave this spot! Do you understand me?”  
“The wicked bitch gelded me! I am sure of it!” he spat.  
“Good! If you move, you can be absolutely certain I will finish what she started!”

I moved as quickly as I could to the house and Charlotte began groaning in pain from my efforts.  
Ben opened the kitchen door and took one look at my expression and reached for the shot gun by the back door.  
“Do not leave the house son! Just guard the door until Jessup returns with Mr Tate. Think you can take them both to your clubhouse?”  
I do not know where the other children were at that moment. I walked straight through the house and put Charlotte down as gently as I could on the bed.  
Still bleeding profusely, she simply passed out. I lifted the dress away from her midsection and her dress and undergarments were drenched. I could not reach the tie for her stays and I cut them away with the hunting knife I found in my bedside table.  
I could only sit, then, and beg her to stay with me. I assured her I was here, that she was safe, and I watched the blood fade from her face as the muslin soaked up the spring that seemed to be pumping from beneath her clothes.  
Everything happened at once.  
Sara brought Hans and Lucy into our room and I was pushed away from my wife as they examined her. Mr Tate glanced in the room and nodded at me as he asked permission for Ben to accompany him to the woods with Philip and Wells. I could only wave him away in silence and I knew in a glance he had realized the severity of Charlotte’s condition.  
They carefully stripped her, from boots to bodice and discovered no wound on her person. Hans pulled me aside.  
“Sidney, Charlotte appears to have lost the baby! Did you even know she was with child?”  
I sat down in a chair. “I did not, and neither, I think, did she! After Christine we have only… Well, only once have we…”  
“I understand. I believe she must have surgery to stop the bleeding. Lucy is adept at this technique but I tell you now, there will be no more children if we proceed. If we do not, Charlotte will most certainly die! Send Sara to mind the children. Keep them away! I must ask you to take that chair to the hallway, and stay!”  
“I will not, Hans. She is my life and I will stay to help anyway I can!”  
They draped Charlotte’s stomach and Lucy was already cutting into the belly I cherished with a scalpel that looked like it would be more efficient for skinning fruit.”  
I turned my face away and held her hand as Hans dosed her with laudanum and spoke quietly to Lucy.  
More than hour passed before they were finished. Every bloody piece of cloth had been removed and Charlotte was covered to her neck, cleaned and still.  
Lucy turned toward me. “By repairing the blood vessels leading to her womb, I have stopped the bleeding. We have removed her uterus. If we can keep her quiet and calm, free from infection and she has not lost too much blood, she may yet live.”  
I could not answer her. I could not speak. Too many times in our short life together I have faced the thought that I might lose Charlotte, and yet, this time felt different. This could be the loss of my wife, for doing no more than riding a horse on a beautiful fall afternoon, on a path she had ridden a hundred times before.  
There would be no more Parker children and the loss of the life of the one that was unknown within her added another shattering blow. I sat beside Charlotte for more than an hour.  
When Sara returned to check on her she said the boys were in the hall with the Magistrate who reported the self inflicted wound of the man who originally had the gun had killed him. The other two were being packed off to jail, their charges to be determined.  
“I shot the man in the foot, you know! Is it he who died?”  
“No, Mr Parker. Dr Fuchs tells me that shot was through and through and the other has nothing wrong with him that time will not cure! Stay with your wife. I wish you well and I will pray Mrs Parker recovers!”  
When I walked back to our room, Grace and Gabby were standing at the foot of the bed. Ben was holding Randy and the twins were standing there gazing at their mama. Their stricken faces spoke volumes. I walked them out and Jane ran to me in the hall. She whispered, “Just tell Mama we love her and she can not go away, Papa. Tell her, please.” I kissed her and handed her off to Gaby. Then I closed the door.  
Through the night I kept vigil, aware that Hans and Lucy were in at different times, monitoring her pulse and breathing, checking for fever, watching for change.  
Sara sent to town for a nurse for Christine and I was relieved to no longer be thinking of our little girl.  
I missed school the next morning and the children all left as usual for their day at school. Graham and Susan came after Randy and Jane and I do not recall if I spoke to them or not.  
As the morning lapsed toward afternoon, Charlotte moaned and opened her eyes.  
“Please be still my darling! I will not leave you!” Her eyes were large in her head and glazed with pain. Lucy dosed her at once and she fell back asleep having made no utterance.  
I held her hand. I talked to her. I begged and cried. I simply felt as though my life were ending. How many times can a man sit by his wife and watch her wrestle death in a single lifetime before she is finally taken away? How helpless was I those times before and how much more aware of my potential loss was I now?

Harry Milton came to see me when he walked the children home after tea. None of them could sit still, nor should they be expected to, he said. He told me about walking up on the men trying to hurt Charlotte flling in all the blanks about the assault and how valiantly she fought.  
“I will watch over the school, Mr Parker. We all will! Your staff and your students are here to support you any way we can. Take the thoughts of us all off your list of things to ponder.”

The absolute quiet in our house lasted four days. Charlotte woke up but her face was drawn, and her eyes were haunted. She would not greet Christine and when I held her hand it was listless. It was as though she were gone from me and I could not reach her.  
John Riley brought new sheet music to Gabriella and the sounds of the piano drifted softly through the house. Gabby rediscovering the piano was a bit of balm to my soul. Though scarred, her hands allowed her to play again and the expression of her heart was most welcome.  
I read, I paced, and I prayed. At no time in my life had I felt as though my prayers were worthy of an omnipotent God’s attention. Whenever I have prayed in the past, I have always felt I got an answer, deserved or not. I now felt utterly abandoned.

I was holding a glass of water to Charlotte’s lips when she whispered, “No more babies, then?”  
“Charlotte! Our family is full and perfect and blessed! Our not having another child just means we have our God given quota! It is no failure to be mourned! I only care that you grow strong and well again! I need my Charlotte… my heart.”  
She wept then and I put my arms around her, as she gave into mourning for all she felt we had lost.  
When she turned away from me. I stayed until she fell asleep and then I went to check on our children.  
I found them eating sandwiches with Sara in the kitchen. One might have heard a pin drop and I waited for someone to giggle or at least whisper.  
“Are Jane Loving and Randy still with Susan and Graham, then?”  
“Yes, Papa.”  
“And school? Is all going well?”  
“Yes, Papa.”  
I heard you playing the piano, Gabby! Thank you! I had missed your music and I am glad your Mama could also hear you play!”  
“Yes, Papa.”  
Ben said, “Well boys, we were not included in that musical conversation and our murdering the fiddles has not been missed by anyone!”  
They chuckled, but it was short lived.  
“What can we do, Papa?” asked Grace. “Just tell us and we will do anything to help!”  
“You do your best, my children. Do everything you can for each other and ask God to bless your Mama.”

I left the room then, unable to eat anyway, and I returned to my study where I pour out the nightmare of our past few horrific days onto paper.  
Good night, my children.  
I love you more than ever before.

Papa


	18. Chapter 18

30 September

My children I will earn credit on some heavenly list somewhere for taking all of you to church yesterday by myself! Randy and Jane had insisted Susan and Graham bring them home the night before and they brought with them a small amount of busy noise that added life back to the house.  
Christine stayed home with the nurse and Sara. And Charlotte. Charlotte did not look at me when I tried to encourage her to come.  
“I can not go today, Sidney.” was her muffled response.  
Grace and Gabby were as lovely as always. Cowlicks and a dirty neck or two might have been in evidence among my boys.  
Jane Loving dressed herself, appearing at the last minute wearing a feather in her hair that had been a cast off of her Mama’s following a ball. And I let her. As I handed her up into the carriage Randy said, “Jane Loving you look ridiculous!”  
She stuck her out her hand like it might be on the long arm of a duchess and said, “Thank you Randy, for noticing my efforts!” The older children smirked at her, Randy was dumbfounded to have her ignore his attempts to begin a smack fight before church and we proceeded to the church as most families do on Sunday when they make the effort to attend without the core of their family.  
Jane stroud up the aisle in front of me holding the edges of her skirt as though she were on her way to visit King George. Determined to make her debut as a big girl, she started the service, not in my lap as is her usual habit, but sitting next to me as all the other girls at church sat near their Papas. Gabby and Grace were most amused that I was being so obviously managed, but I thought she was adorable and simply let her be.  
There were hymns enough and prayers enough to fill the hour and yet had my concentration wandered and I began to think about this new foreign Charlotte that I did not know. She had been hurt, by no fault of her own. We were mostly agreed that we thought Christine was our last baby, weren’t we? I had spent hours over the challenge of making sure I was careful. The loss of her pregnancy had been a heartbreaking event on many levels, but it occurred before we were in love with the possibility of the person that was there. Was I being insensitive?

I had not realized I was angry until I opened up our front door yesterday to find Mrs Smithfelden- Jones and her two grandsons. Each of them was holding a large roast and she presented them to me as a gift for our Sunday lunch. My thanks were profuse and I turned to close the door when she said, “Many women live through being accosted you know, Mr Parker! Demand that she shrug it off and move on! I heard in town your wife is wallowing in her misfortunes.”  
Had my arms not been full of roasts I might have throttled her where she stood!  
“Thank you again for your kind thoughts! I will share your best wishes with my wife!”  
I did not invite them into our home, and I had not been even slightly kind. How dare she judge my wife in a situation she knew nothing of, other than what she had heard!  
Sara was cooking both roasts for lunch and Arthur and Lucy would join us. That fact alone alleviated some of my stress for he would effortlessly entertain the children. Charlotte might actually talk to him.  
My mind wandered from Sunday roasts to the notes I would need to write to Susan and Graham for taking my children so well in hand while I had been so distracted.  
And then it was over. The hour had passed and my fakery of the nuances of worship had fooled all around me and I had just about escaped from the confines of the nave when the vicar stopped me with his hand on my arm,

“Please take this note to Charlotte for me! Read it together and know of our thoughts and prayers for you both. Ben told me of your other loss as well and I am deeply grieved on your behalf. The feather was beguiling, please tell Jane Loving I thought so!”  
I shook his hand, but I could not speak. The knot in my throat was all that blocked the beginning of my great desire to weep. Had I opened my mouth, a sob would surely have escaped in spite of my best efforts, so I simply nodded and joined my family.  
When we arrived home, Arthur and Lucy were already present, and he immediately began comparing his own school experiences with the children and I went to check on Charlotte.  
Lucy was gesturing with her hands, an Italian stereotype that she embodied completely, as she lectured Charlotte on feeling unwell and actually being unwell.  
“You, Charlotte, have a very small and angry child fighting her nurse because she wants her mother! Right now you ache to feed her. Tomorrow, if you do not, you will be fighting an infection which I wish you to avoid at all costs. Why punish yourself so unmerrily?”  
I looked at Charlotte and she smiled a tiny smile inspite of herself. “ ‘Unmercifully’ is the word you might be looking for Lucy,” said she, softly.  
“Charlotte, I know I said it right! Celebrate all you have at this moment and do not plunge into the abyss where all is lost! You are here. You will be fine, although a different fine, and you must embrace what you cannot change!”  
She whirled around without noting my presence and picked up Christine from the cradle.  
“Come, Mother, feed your babe for she is starving for your touch.”

Charlotte reached for Christine and began to feed her. The snuffling sounds made me chuckle and she smiled as she welcomed our child.

“Thank you, Lucy. If you all can wait about a half hour, I will try to join you for lunch. Lucy tells me I must begin to walk and move more, Sidney. I will walk into the dining room as my first attempt.”  
As I hung up my coat, I pulled the vicar’s correspondence from my pocket and I read:

Psalm 30:5  
‘…Weeping may endure for a night,  
but JOY cometh in the morning.’

Find your joy, my children, for it is all around  
you and I know this sad time will pass.  
-Hankins

We waited for Charlotte and I was so relieved to see her. I held her hand in both of mine until Gabby pointed out I could not eat for myself unless I let her go. They all laughed at me. I was replete with gratefulness but the roast smelled so enticing that I succumbed at last.  
Jane Loving’s feather had slipped through her silky hair to stick out at a right angle behind her ear. Charlotte raised an eyebrow at me after checking out her brood and I simply shrugged. If Jane felt like wearing feathers for the rest of her life, I will make that possible!  
We walked out to the loggia after lunch and it was the first time in many days that Charlotte felt the sun on her face.  
“How does the sun shine at all, after such a loss?” murmured Charlotte.  
“Perhaps it shines to remind us that it CAN,” said Arthur, sagely. “We have no choice but to be thankful we do not have to live the rest of our days in rain!”  
The children were so happy to have their Mama at the table that she wore herself out smiling as she listened to their tales from school. Perhaps her intentions were initially good acting, but I watched her relax back into her role at the helm of our family.

I was so grateful. I knew that pot roast and stories could not suddenly switch everything back to normal in a single afternoon. I also know the woman I love will not settle for anything less that offering her best efforts. I was watching her as willed herself to move on and I swore to help her, no matter how long she might need to make it last.

“Uncle Arthur?” said Jane Loving. “My brother Ben has a sea snake in a basket in his room and he has had babies since yesterday!”  
“JANE LOVING!” roared Ben, “You promised not to tell Papa! You are SUCH a girl!”  
“I did not tell PAPA, Ben, I told Uncle Arthur!”  
Arthur and Lucy followed the children as they all jumped up, running to the boys’ room to see the snake.  
Suddenly Charlotte and I were alone. There was a split second when I thought she might slip back into the quiet morass through which we trudged together in recent days, but then she chuckled.  
“The snake was in the hall this morning and Sara and I put it out in the flower bed while you all were at church.” she giggled. “Please let them suffer for a little while as they look for their missing friend! I think it might get lively around here while they look!”  
Arthur walked past the dining room holding the basket in front of him like it might explode. He walked across the tract and left it on the far wall of the loggia. Five minutes later, the entire crew was standing beside the table looking across at us like they were afraid for their very lives.

Sara and Charlotte shared a look as she began clearing the table.  
“Well,” said Charlotte, “Let’s see it then.”

“Mama,” started Ben. “The thing is…we just…. I mean we opened the basket….”  
“The snake is no longer there!” yelled out Randy.  
“Yes, It is most certainly not where we left it!”  
“We did not have snake eggs,” said Joe. “The babies, and there were five of them, just appeared day before yesterday.”  
“All snakes lay eggs,” said Michael as though this might make a difference.  
“Actually, Michael, some snakes hatch their young on the inside and produce their young as a live birth. They are called ‘ovovivparous’ as are other animals that do,” shared Gabby, ever the naturalist.  
“We do not know where the first snake went, but all of her offspring are outside on the wall,” said Arthur.  
He and Lucy soon departed for town. Jane Loving had climbed so far up in my arms to be away from any snake that might crawl near us, that she was holding my hair for support.

The Great Parker Snake Hunt began in the boys’ room and the children drew straws for the duty of looking under the beds or opening the closets. An hour in, Grace opened her closet and an errant hair ribbon floated down to land on her foot in the dark of the cubicle. She was immediately in hysterics. At that point I stepped in.  
“Just stop, children! Ben, your Mama and Sara put the snake out in the flower bed this morning. The snake had escaped to the hall and if I were you, I would be glad they spared his life!”  
“HER, Papa” said Joe, “Geez, she had babies for Pete’s sake!”  
“Thank you, Joe. I am sure that makes a difference to your sister now standing on top of her desk!”  
The boys all ran to the front of the house to seek the snake and reunite her with the babies. "Please take them away from our house and let them go together,” beseeched Charlotte. “Only Barker Parker can represent the animal kingdom in my house! I will not be so kindly inclined again!”  
“Where is Barker Parker?” I asked.  
“His belly is full of roast scraps and he is sleeping off his feast day in front of the library fire next to Christine’s cradle.”

I began to think of my day back at school the next day and the house settled around a newly garnered peace for the evening. I went into my dressing room to polish my boots when curling from the top was an enormous brown and tan snake.  
“BEN!” I screamed.  
“Oh, there you are, Flo!” he said. He gathered up the snake and walked to the door.  
“Thanks, Papa it was very good of you to save her from Mama! I will put her far away from the house this time.”  
When I walked back into our room, Charlotte was shaking with laughter.  
“Tell me, wife, what is so funny?”  
So pleased was I to hear her laughter that anything she said would have delighted me.  
“The snake Sara and I put in the flower bed was a simple black snake! I have never seen one like that one!” said she.  
I shuddered as I slid on to the bed next to her. I gathered her close.  
“Sidney,” she said softly. “I am so sorry! I did so enjoy bringing Parker babies into the world and that is all finished now.”  
“But didn’t we make a family wonderfully, Charlotte? Are they not extraordinary people?” I asked.  
She kissed me, the first of such offerings in a week.  
“You know every time you called my name I felt like I got pregnant!” she whispered.  
“Charlotte, my dear Charlotte…”  
“Yes!” she said adamantly, “That sultry voice exactly!”  
I chuckled.  
“Do you think my heart will not whisper your name because we will no longer make a child? Do you really think when I watch you brush your hair or smile at me, or reach for me in the moonlight that I am thinking of simply making a child?”  
She shrugged a little, unsure.  
I took her face in my hands so there would be no way to avoid my words when I spoke them.  
“When I touch you, when I call your name, my only thoughts are of you and how we might please each other. If anything, my beloved, we will have no fleeting thoughts at all from this point in time except pleasing each other. I married you and I love you. When you are totally well, I will spend our time together proving it to you, for the rest of our lives!”  
“I love you, Sidney!”  
“You aren’t just saying that because I saved you this night from the ferocious snake in the dressing room?” I said, only partly teasing.  
She leaned forward to look at me before asking with classic innocence, “Was that before or after you screamed for Ben like a soprano singing opera?”

Tonight, my children I write with such great happiness that your Mama can tease me and love me through her great pain! I will live to make her happy and I know that each of you know there is nothing I am not willing to do to bring back her joy!  
I would, however, request that my future exposure to snakes be controlled if you all have anything to say about it!

Perhaps we have turned the corner on our grief. Thank you for being kind to your Papa! I know we would be far less of a family without each of your personalities and love.

Sweet Dreams, my children. Welcome back to the home we cherish, filled with you creatures we love.

Papa


	19. Chapter 19

1 October

I went to town early today to check in at the post for correspondence for the school and make sure the food source I started at the Emporium to feed the most hungry in the community was still continuing. I had a lot of help getting started and I was a bit embarrassed that I had dropped purpose behind the project when my attention shifted to the school. Charlotte’s father encouraged me early on to plan my business in such a way that generosity resulted as often as possible. It became the foundation for how I managed my business but it was not communicated by me to Crowe and I was desperately afraid that the extraneous goals and promises I might have made to other people might not be as important to Crowe. I needed to bridge the gap, but I need to get the most recent information. For all intents and purposes, I was absent from school without permission and I did not have a lot of time to dawdle. As I rounded the corner onto the street I stopped in my tracks. Arthur was there with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Diana and Crowe were sorting vegetables and all three were passing out bread to the large crowd gathered in the cold on the early morning. Not only was my obligation being kept by my friends, it appeared as though the people being taken care of had multiplied exponentially. I backed away, and headed back up the tract to school, unsure of what I thought they would have done in my absence and embarrassed to be caught doubting them. I crossed the road to the beach, choosing the cliff walk up from the water’s edge to school. I was deep in thought and not being especially focused when I saw a head dip down behind a large slab of granite That head full of unruly locks looked awfully much like the elder Jessup boy. Where there was one there were usually two. I slowed my pace but walked on to the curve in the path and then I turned back in time to pull Folsom out from behind the rock by his collar and his brother by his jacket lapel. “Boys! What are you doing on the road to town and not at school where you are supposed to be?” I asked them sternly. If I thought for a moment they might quake at being caught red handed skipping school I was sadly disappointed. Folsom piped up, ‘We might ask you the same thing Mr Headmaster! Why aren’t ‘cha at school either?” “I went into town for the post, but I might add, I do not answer to the two of you!” I said angrily. “How do you think your Mother will react when I tell her I found you here in the middle of the day?” At that point, they did quake and began to squirm in my grasp. “She will let us have it, o’ course!” Garret said. “Yup,” Folsom added, “We seem to earn a walloping most days jus’ by being alive!” Their despair touched me in the spot of my heart where there were a few errant scabs from childhood. I handed over the post and the small box of books from Babbers that I had dropped when I caught them. “Look you two, I do not know how often you have cut out of class, but you will not do it again, understood?” “Yes, sir” said Garret tugging to pull up his ill-fitting pants. “So let’s agree that if that mail is on my desk and you both are in Mrs Ross’s class and paying attention by the time I arrive at school, we will overlook this lapse in judgment on your part. There is one stipulation…” “You mean a catch…there is ALWAYS a catch!” mumbled Folsom. “No catch! Every Tuesday morning you will be allowed to miss the first forty minutes of the school day if you check the post in town for the school and then each of you agree to write a summary of at least three things you noticed while you were in town! You will do this once a week until we break for the holidays. This will continue until you both decide I should choose to allow someone else the privilege of skipping a little school. Agreed?” “Yes, Sir!” they chorused. They picked up the parcel of books, the rest of the post and started up the tract to school, running like the wind. I chuckled. My own father used to initiate punishments that were also opportunities to gain trust and I had never really needed to do that with my own children. Well, there is a first time for everything, and I would be interested to see if this little project would work. Folsom sure had a lot of cheek and I had no doubt it would be just a matter of time before he tested me again. The fall day glistened and this afternoon I would once again share a new book with my wife, a past time I dearly loved. You my children seemed happy and strong and I was as content in the world as ever I have been. This night as I write what I hope is a faithful narrative of my every day, I cannot help but think through the students at the school. If I were a man who prayed as diligently as I should, I would do so by naming each. Tonight, all I can formulate in my mind is the acknowledgement that the students I am responsible for, were God’s own children first. Tonight, my prayer is that I serve them all well and fairly! God help them if I ever let my temper lead my actions and I trust I am man enough to avoid this at all costs. Good night my children! I will pray to always be fair. I love you, Papa


	20. Chapter 20

10 October

The school was settled into a nice routine. There were pranks and divisions. Grace was incensed that the Jessup boys she had known all her life began to tease her among their friends by bowing to her when she passed and acting as though she was their queen.

Grace has always been rather confident and quiet, and the unwanted attention embarrassed her.  
I watched for a few days, partially waiting to see if she would settle it herself and trying very hard not to step into a situation and make it larger by loaning my attention to what I saw as a minor issue.

Looking up from some paperwork, I saw Grace standing before my desk when she should have been seated in her classroom.

“Papa,” she said quietly, “I just want you to know when we break for tea, Folsom and Garret Jessup are going to be in a world of hurt!”  
“Oh?” I offered, by way of extracting more information.  
She sat down in the chair in front of my desk. Were we at home she would have circled the desk to perch on the arm of my chair so that I might encircle her with my arms. By nature of her staying put, I understood this conversation was strictly limited to school business.  
“I have asked them, nicely, to stop their teasing and obnoxious heckling when I go home each day and help Garret with his maths or Folsom with reading. I do it willingly! I have been kind to them my whole life! Sara and Jessup are part of our family, so why do their boys act like vermin every chance they get?”  
“I cannot answer that with any certainty, Grace, but if I call them down for it I will give their behavior more attention than I think it deserves!” I said.

“They will need to go home early today, and I am not sorry Papa! I handled it after I talked to Ben and Philip. I just wanted you to know.”  
She turned on her heel and left my office and after looking at the clock I followed her back to her classroom.

The girls were on the left hand side of the classroom as far away from the boys as they could get without leaning against the walls and the boys, were opposite, slouching at their tables as though they wished they were anywhere else.  
Miss Daisy Ross was writing on a large chalk board with her back to the room when Grace slipped back into her classroom.  
The Jessup brothers immediately leaped to their feet in a great pantomime of vassals bowing to the fief. They blew kisses her way and tugged on the front of their curly hair as though tugging a forelock. When the other students laughed, Miss Ross turned around to discover everyone in their places with straight faces.  
Perhaps she was certain that she had all well in hand for she turned back to her task without further ado.  
No one noticed my presence in the shadowed doorway and I was convinced that Grace would not make the situation worse by making a scene. I went back to my office, aware that the boys would need to be pulled away and encouraged to stop.  
When the boys went to the chalk board to work their math problems a few moments later, Grace placed powdered wood nettle all around their seats and on their tabletops.  
The finely ground powder had been a gift from Philip, but neither he nor Grace knew that amount required to invoke limited misery and not torture.  
She told me later that the first thing Folsom did was rub his fingers through the powder and raise his hand to his nose for a sniff. Garret used the side of his arm to clean the ‘dirt’ to the floor before reaching into his clothes to scratch an itch he already seemed to have beneath the waist band of his britches.

He noticed the blotchy red swelling on Folsom’s nose first and before Garret could point out his brother’s apparent problem, his own body began to itch and sting in places he could not really inspect in so public a place. Every place he had so secretly scratched was now burning with pain and he did not care who saw him scratching or where.

Grace could not have planned that the boy’s response would be quite so painful but she had exacted her revenge with such overkill that the boys were in tears before the class took their break for tea. The first thing they each had done, was rush around the outside of the building where they might achieve some modicum of privacy and scratch their entire bodies.  
Everywhere they touched became a trail of scorching heat and itch, leaving tiny blisters rubbed raw by their fingernails.  
Eight year old boys are not the brightest when it comes to the thought that a bath might truly cure what ailed them and I had often heard my own twins boast about the number of days that had lived without being subjected to soap and water.  
I found the Jessup boys on the driveway rubbing their backs against the hitching posts and skipping their tea in hopes they might find something that might offer relief. They tried in vain to straighten and show me the respect they felt I deserved but were physically incapable of more than a smattering of sobs as they doubled over trying to reach the itching spots that were blooming across their bodies beneath their clothes.  
I sent them home with the instruction that they tell their mother they need a cool bath and encouraged them not to scratch though I knew this admonishment fell on deaf ears as they ran down the road toward home.  
When I returned to my office, Grace was sitting in the chair across from my desk, waiting on me.  
“It is only wood nettle powder, Papa!” said she. “Nothing a bath won’t cure!” she added, without remorse.  
“Are your hands itching?” I asked her.  
“No, Papa. I was careful to shake the powder from the bag and I didn’t touch any at all.”  
“You do face a dilemma, then! You must clean up their workspaces and the floor around their sitting area. Mrs Pomeroy will offer you the soap and water required. Be very careful, Grace, because if your hands begin to itch there will be no early dismissal home for you and I will not offer any further relief other than that of washing your hands!”  
“Yes, Papa! I will get right on that chore!” she answered.  
“And Grace!”  
“Yes, Papa?”  
“You have pulled Philip into your revenge plot, and he would willingly move the coastline for you if you asked him to do so! Please apologize to him for getting him in trouble with me and we will talk more about this at home after you both apologize to Sara and Wells when we get back to Windswept!”  
She closed my door when she left me, and I chuckled to myself. It is indisputable that revenge always spawns misery for the avenger on some level, and I knew Grace would not soon forget this day.

The next knock on my door was the Hankins who had come to tour the school at my invitation at they proffered an idea that I adopted at once.  
The Hankins wished to be more involved with the pupils of the school, many of whom did not attend church. Rather than preach from a school pulpit, they will be the leaders of a project called FORTNIGHTLY.  
Every two weeks, on Tuesday afternoons, (thus the name ‘fortnightly’), the Hankins will come to the school and as a follow up to music lessons, the customary dances, manners and common courtesies needed to become mannerly members of the town of Sanditon would be taught. Mrs Hankins will instruct the girls. Mr Hankins will instruct the boys. Meeting about six times before Christmas, the Fortnightly meetings would culminate in a school party and dance in which all the children’s new skills will be demonstrated for the invited parents and guests. 

This afternoon, before dismissal, I eagerly introduced the Hankin’s concept to the student body and presented our happy new addition to the curriculum. 

I am not sure what I expected, but it was not a deafening sea of miserable groans and a legion of sad faces from the majority.  
My own children appeared to be skeptical, at best, and the rebellious faces that accompanied the rest made for a moment of regret in my own life that I had not discussed the possibilities of such a venture with Charlotte before announcing it as a certainty to the school.  
When I reached home before dinner, I found Sara and Wells sitting in the kitchen awaiting my arrival. Grace was next to Charlotte and Philip and the newly shiny Jessup boys were still scratching from the bench at the end of the table.  
So involved in the Hankins proposal was I and how to ‘sell’ it to my children that the itching powder had slipped my mind. With one look at Charlotte and I felt as though I were the one in hot water.  
It seemed Charlotte had been required to preside over the explanation of the teasing, the revenge extracted for such and the painful adhesions which were now all over the Jessup boys, even after their baths. I could clearly see the swelling in between the fingers of my own child’s hands.  
The fleeting thought occurred that if I ventured as far as the hall, my older children would be discovered in various flattened positions along the wall in whatever contortion might offer the best place for listening to the conversation in the kitchen. (I did not look, so I cannot say for certain that all of you were there, but if I were a betting man, I might have thought it entirely possible).  
“Sidney, Grace tells us you were made aware of her plan and did nothing to stop her!” said Charlotte, severely.  
“Now wait just a moment! Grace informed me only that the Jessup boys would require an early release today, that is all! She did not say why, although I did witness the teasing during a maths class that preceded the incident!”  
Jessup was obviously nervous, and I felt that I should begin by allaying his fears of dismissal.  
“Jessup you and Sara are a part of our family! In no way will this occurrence between our children cause any change between us, and our household. Agreed?”  
“We likes her ‘as all,” said Folsom as he scratched. “At school we just wanted to talk to her, and she acts like she doesn’t know us!”  
“In history class,” continued Garret, “We were learning about the pulling of the front of a man’s hair to honor the higher rank of the ruler of the land and we thought ‘twas funny, is all. When it made Grace mad, it was just a bonus.”  
“How was it, Philip,” I asked, “That you had such a vast amount of this wood nettle powder? Where did you acquire it?”  
“Found it in my pocket when I first changed my clothes here,” said he, “I used to put it in the livery at the stable at the Forsythe’s servant’s livery when the new fellows needed to find out who was boss… But I used just a little amount! I told Grace not to use it all! But no! She thought if a little bit would do, a lot would do much better and she did not listen to me! She used it all!”  
I looked back at Grace. Her hands were red and irritated, and I knew Charlotte would castigate me later for not trying to help Grace clean up at school before her own fingers were so inflamed. But I had to admit, her temper was just like my own. On some base level, I wanted to laugh. One look at Charlotte and this feeling fled at once. If I wasn’t very careful, I would catch the brunt for all of this.  
“For tonight I want the three of you to find some soothing balm for your affected bodies, and Philip?”  
“Yes, sir?” he said standing straight and addressing me directly.  
“You are older and have lots of power over the younger boys at school, do you not?”  
“Yes, sir, I am a good leader, most days!” he answered honestly.  
“My expectation is that you will have all the boys ready to happily participate in the Fortnightly classes that Reverend Hankins and his wife will present tomorrow! You will use your leadership skills to lead the other students in any way that will make the program a success!”  
“Yes, Sir.”  
“And Grace?”  
“Yes, Papa?”  
“Because there are more boys than girls at school you will be partnered by Folsom and Garret and the situation will be very uncomfortable if you all are not kind to each other.”  
I looked at the three of them as severely as I could, and they all agreed to my stipulations without protest. Grace shuddered but she knows I am resolved.  
Gabby begin playing the piano in the other room and Jane Loving ran into the kitchen to give her Papa a hug and retrieve an apple, and the situation was naturally interrupted. The conversation related to revenge was tabled for the day.

Only before bed, when I saw Grace with her hands in an old pair of white cotton gloves did I learn that Philip had ventured to town to retrieve a lotion from Lucy to soothe the skin of all involved. I felt better about my decision to hold him to account because I knew I could depend on him.  
After all of our children settled for the night, Charlotte said, “Sidney, what is this new plan by the Hankins? Might I be of help?”  
“If you would come at the end of the day every other Tuesday beginning tomorrow, you and I might demonstrate the dances and serve refreshments. Would you consider it?”  
“I would be the chosen partner of the handsome Headmaster in front of the whole school!” she grinned at me.  
“Yes! I can encourage the participation of the other teachers if you will help me, Charlotte. There is nothing I like better than dancing with you!”  
She kissed me then and I was glad to kiss her back with no thought toward this journal until she fell asleep.  
So here I sit now, my children, writing about a day in which so many things happened, the most important of which was I learned I need to pay better attention to all that occurs in my house and school.

The things I trivialize as I consider each of you might motivate you to extreme actions, like Grace and the wood nettle powder. I really hope that I become more aware of the things that bother each of you. It is my job, after all.

The thought that I will get to dance with Charlotte over the next weeks until Christmas delights me, for I know she loves to dance, and I pray she will also be happy in the prospect.

Good night my children! I pray the days ahead will surprise and please you. I hope you are dreaming of happy days ahead. I fear one of you, the dear child of my heart who is sleeping with gloves on her hand has learned a painful lesson about delving out pay back. But then again, I can only admit to wishing I had known of such when I was in school and Bryce Winston sat in front of me at Eaton. Babers, Crowe and I might have…  
Well, never mind.

I love you, my children!  
Papa


	21. Chapter 21

29 October

By the second occasion of the Fortnightly Meeting, as it is was now known around town, I was pleased to note that the students and teachers were embracing these hours as an unexpected but welcome respite in the boredom that decidedly sets in when a school has a consistent routine.

I can report without hesitation that dancing with Charlotte proves to be a joyous time for us when everyone else just melts away as we demonstrate the steps with the twirls we love so well. After last meeting, when the music faded away, John Riley cleared his throat. Charlotte stepped back. I was so pleased to hold her close as we demonstrated a waltz that I quite lost myself in her eyes. My boys, of course, led an indecorous series of hoots and shouts, making their mother blush like she did when we danced together so many years ago.

There was nothing for me to do but make a series of turns and bows to my students until all erupted in applause and cheers!  
I do not mind being recognized as the Head of School they all admire and the man with the most beautiful wife in Sanditon. (I am sorry to Tom and Arthur, Babers and Crowe, but these are the facts and as such, delight me every single time the thought occurs!)

Susan and Graham began attending the Hankins’ lessons and were often the suppliers of refreshments from the bakery in town or treats from the Emporium. Graham often played the pipes for the children. They encouraged the more reticent participants to try steps and twirls and were a positive addition to all of our efforts.  
Ruby and Edith Babington, with their vibrant hair and their bright green eyes, were the favorites of Michael and Joe and my boys became truly invested in the dance instruction, if for no other reason than the opportunity to stand up with their beautiful friends. Do not misunderstand me, they were very dedicated to the litany of complaints that followed such afternoons due mostly to the fact that Baber’s girls were sweet females and when I suggested they partner each other and let other fellows have the pleasure, the whining stopped at once. Neither would be caught dead dancing with their brother but I had it on Ben’s authority that they often practiced with each other on Monday nights prior to our meetings, ‘jus to get it right’.  
Teachers Harry Milton and Daisy Ross were the favorites in the school. Framingham Wilson and his wife Rebecca always looked at the children as if they were addressing a surfeit of skunks. The perpetual dour expressions they wore suggested the Wilsons drank too strong a brew of tea without allowing themselves the small pleasure of sugar.

The Wilsons were adamant about the waste of time Fortnightly was for the school and after I noted their protests and their inability to achieve any enjoyment from the exercise, gave them those Tuesday afternoons off. For the Wilsons, my unwillingness to allow any corporeal punishment within the Sanditon School was tantamount to endorsing outlandish mayhem and they told me at every opportunity that my failure as an effective Head was imminent.

Ben’s complaint was only related to our piano at home and Mendelssohn’s music to Grace’s favorite Christmas carol. Gabby played with great enthusiasm and if Grace was a bit flat, she made up for it with her great stamina as a songstress. The two played and sang every chance they got. It simply drove Ben around the bend and our current inclement weather added to his misery.  
“Papa, really! It is only October! They have ‘Harked the Herald’ so often that I want to cancel Christmas this year! Please! And Grace and those high notes she tries to hit make Barker Parker howl! Is that the only song they can work on? I would even welcome ‘Ode to Joy’, again!” he said sorrowfully.  
Ben sat for hours on the back stairs outside our kitchen door and carved birds and animals in his free time. I used to think that this private little niche heightened his artistic production but I realized today it was the farthest place one could sit from the drawing room at Windswept and was, therefore, less influenced by the music offerings of the piano.  
To make matters worse, Jane Loving and Randy hum the tune under their breaths and Philip whistles it in the stable without the realization he is doing so.  
I thought giving Ben a project might help and I sent him to talk to the Hankins about building a raised bed for their vegetables in the spring so they would not be required to stoop when they gardened next year.

“Come quickly, Sidney! Listen!” said Charlotte. She grinned.  
As Ben walked toward town his robust and skillful tenor could be heard singing heartily “Hark the Herald Angels sing…”  
“Perhaps when I see John Riley next, I will request some Bach or better yet, that newer song, ‘Silent Night’! Maybe our children will be inspired by the suggestion!” said she.  
Quiet is not something our family thrives on, and I knew if anyone sought solitude at our house they would not find any, not during waking hours at any rate. Perhaps silence is highly overrated.  
Certainly, there is no reason to try to study that theory within the walls of Windswept.  
Jane Loving and Randy are going to attend fortnightly with Charlotte tomorrow and I have promised to dance with my girl, a promise she got in writing on a makeshift dance card she drew before I came home. She is certainly not shy about claiming my time and I am delighted with her attentions! Of course, she will wear a feather! What else should a small girl do when she is five and enchanting and dancing with her Papa?  
Christine is growing so quickly, and she bellows about everything. We often laugh at her outbursts and Joe assures us that unless one bellows around here, they most probably will be ignored. My tiny daughter will never allow us to overlook her!

When fortnightly finally rolled around Graham stood and introduced the dancing, partnering Susan. The Hankins explained the history of the reel and walked through the steps so all might follow. After every four or five turns, John Riley would stop playing and the children would walk through the steps again. Within the hour all of them had learned the basic steps and the small quartet played such a merry tune that even the cynics among them tapped their feet.

In the corner, Folsom Jessup was surrounded by such a clutch of mischievous ten year old scoundrels that my attention was captured at once.  
All I heard was, “I double dare you to ask him, Jessup! We all want to know!”  
One must admit, that what followed was a mixture of daft youthful bravery and idiocy in equal measures and I watched Folsom march up to stand in front of everyone’s merry Scot, Graham, and address him directly.

“Excuse me, good Sir, but I have found myself wondering and needing to ask, does a man such as yerself bother with wearing something underneath your kilt or are you prone to nakedness under there?” said Folsom clearly. The collective gasp that filled the room contained my own.

Graham roared. I honestly do not know if it was a mixture of ire or laughter, only that it bubbled from his chest and silenced the attendees into statuesque stillness as all waited the big man’s response. The thought crossed my mind that the lad was a goner but I knew killing him was beneath Graham and before I could intervene he had picked the child up beneath his elbows and was staring him in the face close enough for Folsom to feel his breath.  
“Do you know,” began Graham, “that my good wife has never had the temerity to ask me that? Why does a wee laddie, such as yerself, care what kin beneath a man’s kilt unless ‘twas he who wishes to wear one o’ his own?”  
“Ummm…I canna say for certain! Me and Horner Webb and some fellows was wondering!”  
Graham’s eyes flicked to the crowd of older boys in the corner and said, “Tis you lot then, that will showcase a few ‘men only’ dances from the Highlands! Next time we meet I’ll see to it that all of you have sufficient plaid into which to whirl in a kilt, and I’ll have no more questions about what lies beneath me sporran!”  
All eyes looked to me and I said, “I did not hear you boys say loudly enough, ‘It will be our pleasure, Sir!’”  
They mumbled and tried to escape, but after dropping Folsom onto the drawing room floor, Graham rounded them up without preamble and drove them like cattle to Reverend Hankins where their names were all written down on a list.  
To be honest, I was amazed by how easily it was accomplished that the day moved on without further delay. It was only after we returned for the evening to Windswept that I discovered Sara and Wells Jessup did not share the Parker family abhorrence of spanking as punishment and Folsom had his head through the split rail of the lower fence while Sara walloped him with such practiced precision that the child’s bottom would be red for a week.  
When she had finished, and she did so only after her wooden paddle cracked, she dragged Folsom to me by the ear to make his apology which I immediately accepted and as I turned back to the kitchen every Parker child including Philip was standing in the kitchen windows watching Folsom’s punishment with gaping mouths and awestruck expressions.  
Sara brought the spoon back to the kitchen and my brood scattered to the ends of the house.

“He will wear the kilt for the school party,” said Sara, “and every day after, for the week.”  
“Yes, Ma’am,” I answered.  
“Mr Parker? Is there hope for my boys to behave or shall I despair at their wickedness and draw the veil over my hopes for their lives right now?”  
Jessup joined her in the library where Charlotte and I were having tea and I measured my words carefully.  
“Folsom was put up to his behavior on a dare. I believe Graham will make certain he never questions a Scot about anything ever again, but more importantly, that he not allow other boys to manipulate him in the future, either through dares or bets. Please do not worry yourselves about what other people think, Sara. Wells. Watch! Your boys have the same materials for the making of great men, as do mine, and they will all learn, through trial and error, how to become the best version of themselves by our belief that they can do so!”  
Charlotte looked at me with a raised brow and crossed the room to close the door when they left us. She barely made it back to my chair before she laughed until she cried as I relayed the whole story. She had pieced together bits and pieces from the children, but I supplied the big picture. As I described the look on Graham’s face and the glittering mirth that had been in Susan’s eyes during the confrontation, Charlotte hugged me, her body shaking with hilarity.  
“Mrs Parker, was it not you who admonished me by exacting a promise that I would never spank our own children, no matter how deviant their behavior might appear?”  
“I did, yes, Sidney! Had we had a small boy like Folsom Jessup I might have changed my mind!”

A small knock at the door was not answered before Jane Loving appeared in front of us as Charlotte remained perched on my lap in the library.  
“Papa, might you have some lap for me?” she asked.  
We hauled her up to sit on top of both of us and hugged her close.  
“Is anything wrong dear girl?” Charlotte asked softly.  
She cupped her hands around her mouth before saying, “Ben says Folsom must surely have a blistered bottom and I really want to ask Sara for some toast but I am thinking she might not like me to be in her kitchen jus’ now!”  
“Small girls do not get spankings by asking politely for toast,” assured Charlotte.  
“Ben should not speculate about the state of his friends er…bodies, ever, Jane Loving, nor should you!”  
She lay her head on my shoulder and placed her hand over Charlotte’s hand across my heart before saying, “Oh, Papa! Being with you is better’n toast! Think I’ll jes’ stay here, for a moment!”

Children, it is the way of the world to extend ridiculous challenges and to exact punishment for participating in such! I write tonight realizing that I trust your inner compasses will lead you to make the right decisions, to extract yourself from situations where the demands are too great, where feelings might be hurt or your body harmed.  
I am thinking about you, Michael and Joe and your breakneck races while horse riding on the beach. I am remembering your fussing at Jane Loving, Ben and calling her “such a GIRL!”, Randy’s love for stirring up his sisters, Grace and Gabby and your glee in practicing a single piece of music until your brothers cry. All are collectively mean and individually seem most harmless.  
I do hope to teach you to choose to show kindness to each other and to yourselves. This is the greatest lesson I can teach you all, for you are good and dear children.

As I close tonight, I give you leave to ‘Hark the Herald’ in rambunctious and joyful ways, but always make sure your kindness shines through. I know you can. I often see that you do.  
I love you all, my children and I hope you feel how much I do every moment.

Do not doubt it!

Good Night!

Papa


	22. Chapter 22

5 November

The students were disappointed to have no day off from school on Guy Fawkes Day, but Bonfire Night, as it is known in many circles, was a day on which Fortnightly was scheduled and the historical fact of Guy Fawkes would be studied from inside the classroom this year.  
The boys loved the gore of the conspiracy story, the girls liked the thought of a bonfire, but both factions were disappointed in my planning this year and I was eager to move on.  
Next year, perhaps their Head of School will be better informed of the calendar as set and I will not be battling Renfroe’s schedule.

Guy Fawkes Day was celebrated at Sanditon School when Graham showed up with a pile of kilts for the band of ‘merrimakers’ who would now be performing a version of the Highland Fling at our Christmas Gala. Only Folsom Jessup understood his mother’s proclamation that he would be wearing his kilt for the entire week leading up to the Christmas holiday and he was morose in the extreme.  
If we had planned a bonfire this night, I am afraid the fodder for the flames might have been the Scot’s offering of plaid.  
Several parents protested Graham’s punishment for the boys, but I quickly understood that they were misinformed about the source of the punishment. Whether or not most liked or disliked Graham, they were mortified that their boys had been involved with a plot that inquired about the coverings worn-or not worn- on his nether regions under his kilt and were willing to let the punishment stand.  
The fling begins with an upraised arm of each dancer and a hopping step that includes toe touches behind and in front of the knee. The dance was performed to the pipes on which Graham would play…and he played….and he played, and he played. The boys repeated the steps until even the most robust among them were in an exhausted heap when, finally, Graham finished.  
“Ye laddies canna lay down ta the finish o’ the Fling!” he admonished them. “Stand up and form a nice double line! We shall practice again, and this time finish on yer feet and bow on the count of three to yer audience. Front line exits left, hands behind the back. Back row exits right, hands behind the back. Stand up straight and encourage each other or…we shall do it again, ken?”  
They answered, “Yes Sir!” in one voice, and his unusual form of discipline was far more effective that anything I might have dreamed up.  
Those demonstrating the reel and the waltz were far more precise in their movements because they did not want to be outshined by the likes of Folsom Jessup and the Fortnightly production was beginning to shape up quite nicely.  
Charlotte and Susan thoroughly enjoyed watching the two of us act as coaches and friends to the students participating in the Hankins’ great experiment.  
I felt like I said, ‘boys, palms down’ and ‘straighten your back’ in my sleep, but Charlotte made no complaint and I was grateful when she encouraged the students in a myriad of positive ways.  
With only two sessions left before our presentation on 17 December, I understood their nervous worry, but I also knew the parents would be delighted by their efforts, as was I.

Mrs Smithfelden- Jones protested, as is her course, about everything she heard about. When I finally asked her to be ‘in charge’ of decorating the hall before the performance, her grousing ceased. Esther has great plans for furnishing an enormous tree and Mrs Smithfelden-Jone’s work will be cut out for her, but she proceeded to form her committee without further ado.  
From my study tonight I can see far off firelight in the dunes, and I realize many Sanditon residents are celebrating Guy Fawkes tonight, even if the school is not.  
Susan and Graham brought Jane Loving a beautiful pink silk dress from Paris for her birthday and she will not take it off, so determined has she been to wear it every waking moment.  
Charlotte is waiting for me to help her undress our tiny child after sleep has claimed her so that the dress might be spot cleaned and hung up in order to shed all the wrinkles. I cannot fault my tiny cherub for her love for silk and I must add it to feathers for her hair on the lists of items I am willing to supply for her. It is though she is trying desperately to wear it out, so Christine has no chance of inheriting it!  
And so, on this historical night, celebrating a famous masked protester and the failed gunpowder uprising designed to end Parliament by treason, the only words I can think of which accurately apply to my exhaustion are ‘fling, flang, flung’ all of which seem especially true tonight!

Good night, you determined souls and precious offspring. As always,

My Most Love,

Papa

15 November

Randy continued to work on his reading with Charlotte and I often walked in on them at the end of the day making their way through a fairy story or a news report she thought he might find interesting.  
To my great chagrin, Charlotte unearthed the article the paper published in their first edition in which I was discussed and praised. Randy is so impressed by this article that he quotes from it by memory and wants to share it with everyone.  
I finally challenged him to become an intrepid reporter himself and asked Charlotte to help him write a story about the Fortnightly production that he might, with Charlotte’s help, supply to the newspaper. The one caveat was that he must not mention his Papa’s name in any sentence of the article accept to refer to me as the headmaster of the school. Here was his first attempt:

The Sanditon School is having a parents meeting on the 17 of December  
during which there will be singing and dancing and the joyful eating of snacks.  
Mr Sidney Parker, known as the most stellar of men, is the Head of the Sanditon  
School and the Fortnightly program was thunk up by he and the vicar for the  
betterment of all. Don’t miss the show! There will be many boys in kilts and the  
things to eat will taste good! By: Randy Parker

I hope he will allow Charlotte to perform a bit of editing, but I found it dear that he wants to celebrate his Papa and eat good snacks, not necessarily in that order.

Lady Denham’s large Triton statue has been moved to the lobby of the Assembly Rooms in town and Tom had a plaque produced stating the many ways the good lady contributed to the town of Sanditon. The enormous bronzed display sat in the end of Lady D’s drawing room for many years and it took ten of Stringer’s strongest men to move it to town using a wheeled platform and ropes.  
Every time Charlotte looked at it she smirked at me, and it became her thinly veiled reference to her seeing me all those years ago rising nude from my swim at the cove. I mean, good Lord! It IS rather flattering to be compared to a Greek god, but I am a bit intimidated that more than ten years later I must measure up to all I once was. No, I am glad to see Triton and all he represents, be in residence in the town where the daily comparison may no longer haunt me!

Philip’s residence in the carriage house had lingered far beyond the several months I originally planned, but I could not imagine my stables without his expertise. After he left for school last Wednesday, Sara and Charlotte climbed the stairs of the carriage house to clean up a bit and replace the older linens and a few dishes. When they entered the room, they were dumbfounded at the condition of the place and simply closed the door behind them.

When I returned home at the end of the day, we officially called on Philip and I was stunned. The carriage house was immaculate, as though a small home showcase! It did not look as though a single person lived within, much less a boy of only fifteen. So meticulous was his living space that I felt led to ask him if he was, in fact, sleeping there. He just laughed, extending his hands above his head as if he were reaching heavenward.  
“I have never had a nicer place to live and it is my pleasure to keep it as if it were a castle. It is my castle, on loan from you, understand!”

“I never expected that your care for our horses for a few weeks in exchange for attending school would turn into months of your working so hard for my family. Thank you!” I said.  
“Might I stay, then, Sir, at least until summer?”  
Wood was stacked neatly by the stove in the front room and I had no words to express my deep pride in him for caring so well for the place.  
“Philip, Charlotte and I wish you would stay until you reach the age of twenty one and have achieved your majority! You will be a member of our family until you cannot stand us anymore, and choose to sneak out in the middle of the night to escape our attention,” I told him.  
He sat on the bed and wept with his head in his hands. “I will be the best lad you and Mrs Parker have ever known, I promise! I know I am, by far, the luckiest! Thank you!”  
He stood and shook my hand and I hugged him feeling him cling to me much as Jane Loving does. I wondered how many years it has been since his father hugged him and I was touched by the unmitigated need I felt in his action.  
“Your housekeeping skills are making all us other Parker men look bad, so at least leave scuffed boots by the door and a dish or two in the sink! We have habits to maintain, you know, and all this spit and polish will have Charlotte making higher demands of all of us!”  
Philip saluted as I departed, and I heard him laugh with relief. For all practical purposes his number made our children register as nine, and I felt good about him staying. We could not ask for better children if we could design each one from scratch and I find myself in this study wondering how you all will feel if we do make his life permanent.

At dinner tonight I waited until Philip excused himself to go study and I gathered you all into the drawing room. Ben said, “Please, Papa, do not let the girls sing!”  
Gabby stuck her tongue out at him at once and their banter and behavior made me aware that the Parker children, unlike Philip who wished to be one, would never strive for perfection beyond what was naturally expressed.  
“Children, please listen!” I said and they quieted, respectfully enough.  
“Philip has asked if he might stay with our family until summer and your Mama and I believe he should stay until he is of age! That is another six years from now and he is delighted by the offer. Do any of you have any concerns about our decision?”  
Ben said, “Papa, Mama found me on the cliff, and I have nothing to say to Philip but ‘welcome’!”  
Grace and Gabby wondered about his rights as a big brother, would he be bossy or expected to be kind?  
Michael and Joe wanted Philp for his camping skills and Randy appreciated him for his drawing ability.  
It was Jane Loving who ended the conversation by saying, “Papa, everyone wants to belong to you and Mama! How can we say ‘no’, as long as he kisses our ponies on their noses and he agrees to treat us like another best big brother?”

How indeed, Jane, can we say ‘no’? She climbed up onto my lap and settled in her place most happily.  
And so tonight, my children, I write including Philip in my hopes for you all, my children.  
Our numbers increase, but then, so does our love. We will never say no to a child who needs a home! Now I am happy to report we add to that number with a school full of extra children and I am glad you all can be generous when the opportunity arises.  
Nine children! Who would ever believe it? If Charlotte and I are allrounders, and four of you are bowlers and five are batsmen, we have exactly the right number for a Parker Cricket Team!

Whether we play cricket or not, our team will be solid, I am sure of it! Good night my children!  
I love you all and I am so grateful to have you each in my life.  
Sweet Dreams,

Papa


	23. Chapter 23

1 December

Today the Christmas tree arrived on an enormous cart pulled by two huge work horses. The tree, cut in Surrey, was organized by Esther in London and the two men performing the delivery set it in the enormous brace on the floor. 

They brought many lengths of garland and holly and the classes that usually met with in the largest room were distracted and excited.  
The teachers tried to salvage the day by assigning the design of ornaments that included the themes of favorite stories and were shaped in mathematically inspired shapes (angles, circles, squares or cones) from materials the teachers scrounged around from normal items around the school. Most were paper and some were formed by a favorite rock or shell a student just happened to have carried from home.  
Some girls sacrificed a ribbon from their hair or a loose button, but all were creative and unexpected.  
The icy wind and rain lightly glazed the trees outside the windows with a frosty shroud and the excitement of the season seeped into the hardest of hearts. All but the Wilsons, who chastised the children for smiling as they performed their tasks and forbade any kind of song within the wall of their classrooms.

The difference in attitude was heat and cold, light and dark, exciting and disheartened. I knew that I could not be distracted myself from the absolute need to replace them within the ranks of the school, but a dissolution of their contracts, even when all the staff knew contracts would be discussed before year end, seemed heartless of me with Christmas coming so close on the heels of our school celebrating so much.  
I called them in for a meeting and Mr Wilson took over at once.

“Mr Parker, I know I speak for my wife when I say we have never been in teaching positions in which the attitude of the leadership of the school was about children being in control of what they extracted from the experience!”  
Mrs Wilson picked up the narrative. It felt a bit rehearsed, but I have withstood their criticism before and I felt like they should express all of their disillusionment so that I could mull over my next decisions.

“A Reverend who encourages dancing? How shocking! Children who are fed whether or not they behave, and no negative responses to ugliness! Mr Wilson and I believe that an occasional thrashing maintains discipline and authority. The Bibles says, ‘Spare the rod and spoil the child’! and we adhere to this life lesson. Your children, Mr Parker, are far too liberal with their opinions and they stick their necks out to help even the poorest of the scoundrels from nothing backgrounds in Sanditon! They do not know when to stop being involved and mind their own business! You have all those children at home, and did you know that Grace and Gabriella often clothe the Fielding sisters with cloaks and dresses and shoes they themselves have outgrown! We are not supposed to minister to the poor here, we are supposed to inspire the thoughts of intellectual greatness.”

I had heard enough, and I was swallowing rage when I addressed them.  
“Mr and Mrs Wilson, I believe you have summed up but a few of the differences in our minds and motives that make our continuing your contracts here all but impossible for the New Year!”  
They had been planning, I suppose, to use their ages and attitudes to bully me throughout our discussion by touting their experience and my lack thereof, as far as educational attitude. I will own their superior experience, but not their attitude toward students! Nothing they said or did was founded in love and I am no Biblical scholar, but I do know that discipline in any form, not founded in love, is often abusive and remembered more for that abuse than the discipline it is supposed to invoke.  
They blustered for another quarter of an hour, even grousing about the generosity of the school’s cook as she made sure no child ever went hungry. When this had been repeated twice as though their personal lauder was being raided to perform the task, I slammed my hand down on the desk to silence them.  
“I agree that our philosophy differs to the extreme,” I said. “I cannot impede your seeking a more fitting post elsewhere and suggest you do so at once! I would ask that your apartment here be vacated by the twenty second of December. Your wages will be paid in full and I offer two nights at the Crown should you require the time to determine where next you will reside! This gives you almost a month the determine your next steps and I hope you will use the time wisely!”  
“And one more thing,” I added, “I do not want to hear a lesson from your lips or an attitude expressed by your behavior or intent that does not edify our students in every way, no matter whose children they are! If I learn of it, I will be hard pressed to offer a recommendation of any kind and I believe this might severely limit your positions of employment in the future!”

Mr Wilson squared off as though he wished to hit me before sputtering, “Lord Babington will certainly hear about this as soon as possible, Mr Parker!”

“I, too, will inform him as soon as possible, but I believe he will only thank me for saving him worrisome decisions and time! Good Day!”

I knew I could not make hiring choices without addressing the issues I saw as problems. So,I asked our children.  
We were clustered around the fireplace in the library of Windswept and I had already sent an informative missive to Babington.

“Children? What makes an ideal teacher?” I asked.  
Gabriella, at once, said, “Someone who does not frighten you into learning or manipulate you by by retaliation.”  
“I do not even know what she means, Papa!” said Joe, “But I think a good teacher wants you to learn all they know, and more, and is very kind while challenging you!”  
“Yes, and they are fun and want you to learn not just memorize,” said Michael.  
Ben said, “I think a good teacher is proud of your efforts!”  
Grace added, “A good teacher is glad if you can get an idea right away but is patient if it takes awhile.”  
Randy, ever listening and having never been in a classroom, added, “Mama is the best teacher because I know everything she teaches me has love in it!”  
“So, a good teacher knows a lot, is kind and is eager for you to learn all they know while having fun?” I summarized.  
“Don’t forget the love part, Papa,” reminded Grace.  
“I want my teacher to smile at me,” said Jane Loving. She was allowed an opinion even without experience.  
“Don’t worry Jane Loving, teachers will always smile at you, I think!” said Michael, nicely.  
It was a tall order. None of my teachers had been especially kind when I was a student. Very few of them actually made an effort to know our names. Babers, Crowe and I had been middle of the row students, unwilling to stand out and unwilling to fail. We wanted to learn all we could without being noticed and I recognized myself in many of the students at the school.

Two perfect teachers, two of them in a matter of weeks, in the month of a major holiday. That is all! That is a tall order.

When I spoke next to Graham, he looked at me rather hard and said,  
“Ye kinna leave ‘em be till after the year turned?”  
“No, I could not! The Wilsons were so rude and difficult! To limit their exposure to the students was the best gift I could give the school!”  
“Well then, for the spring at least, Charlotte, Susan and I will join Mrs Smithfelden- Jones and fill in ‘til the right people come along! If yer not a good boss ‘o me I will pummel ye!” Graham promised.

It would buy some time for me and offers a great solution! I also have the Hankins who might extend Fortnightly and teach the students other things in the same time slot until summer.

I would write to Oxford and Cambridge and ask for their brightest teaching candidates and Esther and Babington might put the word out in London. It was going to be a challenge and I could waste no time.  
Tonight, I climbed into bed, feeling exhaustion ripple through my body. Charlotte was soft and silent beside me and I expected to hear her breathing slow as she fell more deeply asleep. I would not wrestle worries this night, not until I slept for at least awhile. After I tried to relax my arms, my back, my legs, all while not disturbing my wife, I felt an ice-cold toe on the back of my calf.

I leaned up on my elbows and looked over at her. She appeared as before, sound asleep. As I settled back again, I felt her foot circulate in the sheets, creating warmth. Her toes were like fingers as they rubbed my feet and legs.  
My God! Charlotte and her toes were more than I could bear, and I rolled over her to hold and kiss her.

In the darkness she giggled against my mouth and I knew it would be alright. All of it! The school. The teachers. The production at the open house. The children and their growing and changing personalities, all of it. I, Sidney Parker, could hold my wife to my heart in the darkness and float on the promise that we would get through anything, together.

Hours after midnight, Christine voiced protests about the current state of her hunger and her nappies and after I changed her, I handed her to Charlotte to come into this study and write. I feel as though I continue to learn the lesson that there are things I cannot ever control, no matter how much I may wish to do so.

Many of you snore, I wish to point out, that I have witnessed snuffling and sighs enough to make me laugh out loud, but since a Papa’s job is to insure you all are sleeping safely and with the topics of the sweetest of dreams in your minds, the information will be tucked away for the purposes of teasing later and balancing the facts should I be required to do so!

Good night, my children! How happy I am that your sweet snores and dear dreams are the most that fills your heads as you sleep.

I love you,

Papa


	24. Chapter 24

17 December

When I awoke it was still dark outside and I realized nerves were driving me from sleep. In the navy early morning I sat in the chair by the window thinking through the day ahead.

So proud of our school was I that I knew that even if our program resembled nothing of what we imagined, no one else would know! If the dances were not perfection, the parents would focus on the smiles of their children, seeing their accomplishments, not the deficits.

Sanditon would see a dozen of the town ten year olds wearing their kilts, performing the Highland fling, ending the most creative punishment I had ever seen for the most cheeky of behaviors.

It would be a great day! I was dressed and ready to go before daybreak and I scooped up sweet Christine before she might wake Charlotte. She was comforted when dry and I danced around our room conversing with her about the anticipated joy of the day.

“It is a bit early for the waltz, my love!” said Charlotte, sitting up in bed.  
“Yes, it is, my darling wife, and your daughter would rather eat than twirl with her Papa, go figure!” I responded. I handed Christine to her mother and stepped back to watch my child and her beautiful mother partake in a ritual as old as time. I draped her shawl over Charlotte’s shoulder and leaned to kiss her as I wrapped them up to ward off the morning chill.

There was never a sight more beautiful! My heart felt the heaviness of the knowledge that Christine would be the last to receive a gift of sustenance from Charlotte and the tinge of sorrow crept in after my keeping it away all these many weeks. Charlotte had made no verbal complaint, her grief hidden behind her gratitude for being alive. I must ask Lucy how to make sure I am there in every way for her.  
A knock on the door and I greeted Sarah as she bustled in with an early morning pot of tea, some gingerbread and scones.  
“Wells thought you might be up early and I thought a nice cuppa’ tea might help start your day!” said Sara. She smiled at Charlotte and took her leave. I handed a cup to Charlotte and waited while she sipped and handed it back.  
She rearranged Christine so that she might drink while holding my youngest.  
After a cup, the day seemed to begin as though it had been shot from a canon.  
“Sara and Wells will bring you, Christine, Jane Loving and Randy in the carriage at two o’clock. Mrs Pomeroy has made a small bed in my office alcove for Christine and she will watch over her during the production. Our plan is to kick everything off at exactly three o’clock.”  
I took away Charlotte’s cup and lingered a moment, kissing her once on the lips and again on the forehead.

“I love you, Mrs Parker!”  
“And I you, Sidney! Have fun today!”

The footmen were lighting the chandeliers and candelabras and I was grateful the careful process was not directly related to me, handling the heavy, fragile objects.

Benches were arranged, tables cleaned and the fireplaces in the great old Sanditon House cackled and whispered as they warmed the most distant corner of every room. I thought of Lady Denham then, as I do every morning and I hoped she was well pleased.

When the students began arriving, I noted the extra efforts toward the festive. A sprig of holly here, a red ribbon there and a cowlick or two that had received attention beyond the normal. Everyone was enthusiastic and bright-eyed, and I was so thankful for the efforts made by them all.

A bit after 10 o’clock the Jessup brothers screeched into the school having made the run to town. They carried the post and a large bag of treats for the students from Crowe and the lessons that special day began with sticks of peppermint being munched in happy concentration while Miss Ross attempted one more math lesson before break.  
There was a clatter at the front door before we had a scheduled break for tea and Harry Milton entered the door of Sanditon House riding a donkey. He rode straight to the front of Miss Ross’s class and dismounted with a flourish.  
Perhaps he was dressed as one of the three wise kings, perhaps as a Bedouin prince or a nomad from places east, but his flair for the dramatic was not lost on the children who giggled nervously to see what might happen next.

I was curious too, but no one was more enraptured than was Daisy Ross as he dropped to one knee in front of all and began,

‘Within these learned halls  
And among these impressive walls,  
I have found my missing part,  
My soul, my very heart.  
Over the world I rambled  
With my very life I gambled  
Until I realized, until I knew  
My home, my harbor, was you!’  
“Miss Ross, in front of all these witnesses, I declare my love to you. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”  
She answered him with a blushing smile, “It would be my absolute joy, Mr Milton!”  
The children cheered and total mayhem ensued! I found myself in the entry, holding the lead from the donkey as I led him outside. I will admit to thinking my two young teachers might replace the Wilsons as the couple in charge of the educators who might join our staff. I was relieved to think I might now recruit single individuals without worry, for chaperones would already be present. Unless the Milton’s would want to travel? Oh, good heavens! Would I need to replace the entire staff!?

The Hankins arrived at the same time as Susan and Graham and all teased me in some form or fashion about the ass in my possession. I tied the animal at the hitching post and walked back into the Sanditon School. I was aware that try as I might I would never be able to predict what might happen from one day to the next and the innate characteristic I have to control things became an obvious joke played upon me.  
In the hall the congratulations and best wishes propelled the children over the edge of the celebratory mood required for such an afternoon as this and by the time I greeted Charlotte and the rest of my family, parents were arriving, ready to be entertained.

At exactly three o’clock a hush fell over the crowd and I walked to the front of the room to address them all.  
“My Lord, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Sanditon School!”  
There was applause and polite murmuring as all nodded at Esther and Babers as they slipped in beside me.  
I happened to glance at Gabby as she blushed a color I had never witnessed on the cheeks of my children and I was momentarily confused until I saw Charles Babington at the back of the room. The fall term at Eaton had agreed with him and he was tall, well groomed and nodding happily at my child! I was momentarily stunned at the realization that there might be a true affection between them, and I stumbled a bit as I addressed the crowd.

“Erm…a warm welcome to you all! On behalf of the school, staff and pupils we are pleased to have you at our first holiday open house! I am Sidney Parker and I am pleased to greet your children every morning as they embark on what we plan will be the beginnings of their life long adventure of learning. We hope the program we share and the hard work of your children will be in evidence as the afternoon progresses, but should you have other unanswered questions, please see me to make an appointment early in the new year!”  
Lord Babington took over adding a few points off business, congratulating our newly engaged teachers and encouraging the students as they would ready themselves for the program this afternoon.

And then it began.  
Folsom Jessup and Garret rolled out a long length of plaid and demonstrated the pleating of the kilt that ultimately ended up belted on Folsom and the audience clapped at the outcome. They were joined by the other ten of Graham’s ‘men’. As he played the pipes the boys performed the Highland Fling as the crowd looked on in entertained amusement.  
Dances were demonstrated and performed, recitations given, and carols played on the piano. John Riley led the crowd in a toe tapping rendition of several musical numbers and there was nobody in the room without a huge smile on their faces.  
The musicians played more songs to dance to as the refreshment tables opened for snacking and I watched Charles Babington bow to Gabby and offer her his hand as a partner.  
Esther was suddenly at my elbow and she whispered under her breath, “You look like you are ready to pounce on my son, Mr Parker!” she grinned at me. “I believe the less we say to our children at this stage, the better. Things seem to work out as they are destined. I promise you, Charles will always be a perfect gentleman!”  
“Good Lord, Esther! Wasn’t it just yesterday he was standing on my boot while holding my knee as we crossed the lawn?”  
“Yes! And Gabriella was but a twinkle in God’s eye!” She squeezed my arm and walked away, smiling.  
Charlotte danced with me then and we parted for her to check on Christine.  
Babington called for everyone’s attention and then turned the floor over to Harry Milton. As he stood the children applauded and he appeared pleased as they quieted.  
“During one of my first days as a teacher here, I met a young lady who was visiting the school and attended one of my classes. During that particular day I was demonstrating the ride across the desert on camel back and she walked forward, more than willing to pet my imaginary camel, but more importantly to allow herself to imagine the real in the obvious make believe. She will be a great student here one day, but today I have agreed to introduce her while she addresses you all. Please welcome Jane Loving Parker.”

To the podium he pulled the piano bench, carefully lifting Jane Loving as she stood on the middle of the bench.  
“My brothers and sisters are happy to share our Papa, Mr Sidney Parker, with each of you. I want to say that I love him very much and I cannot wait until I can come to school with each of you! So, Mr Milton said I might ask if you would show my Papa, by clapping your hands, what he means to each of you!”  
The place erupted and I was flattered and embarrassed, but so very proud of my little girl. I scooped Jane into my arms and waved my thanks to the gathering.  
Mr Milton continued as the assembled group quieted.  
“Before we depart this place I wish to introduce Mrs Charlotte Parker. (Everyone applauded as she stood).  
“And now if you are a Parker child, would you please stand?”  
Ben was the first to rise, and he shyly waved as he was joined by Grace, Gabby, Joe, Michael and Randy. Philip stood next and then suddenly throughout the crowd, led by the Jessup boys, every student stood.  
“Ah,” said Milton, “It is just as the good Reverend Hankin’s predicted! When your child is here, they all belong to Mr Parker and feel as though they are right where they belong!”  
It is just as well I was not expected to speak, for the lump that formed in my throat felt like a small boulder and I was so touched I fought emotion from showing in my eyes. I murmured “Oh, I am blessed…”  
“What’s the matter my Papa?” asked Jane Loving. “You sound as though you have a little horse in your throat!”

After a little while, when all the projects had been gathered, best wishes for a merry Christmas shared and Sanditon House was emptied of all the students and their families, we departed for home.  
In fine style did we demonstrate the potential of our school and if, at this point, the model is a bit disjointed, I believe that it is only a matter of time before we become entrenched in consistent learning and all the traditions that evolve.  
Tonight, as I make of record of our day, I can only think of how very proud of all of you I am!  
You, my Parker children, are my heart and yet today I found how far my heart can expand to accommodate your peers.

Perhaps tonight we will embrace this winter night with exhausted peace and sleep way past dawn as our break begins. Good night, my children. 

I love and adore you.

Papa


	25. Chapter 25

24 December  
Christmas Eve

This morning the entire family, with the exception of Christine and Philip, ventured to town as we delivered Sara Jessup’s fruit cakes and wishes for a merry Christmas to our friends and family.

All seven of the children walked with their heads together in several bunches, waving and greeting the people we met.

Jane Loving danced the walk to town. She skipped forward, circled back to make sure Charlotte and I were quite alright, ran forward to make sure the brothers were all behaving and paused for a moment to see if Gabby and Grace were discussing any matter of great importance.

With Charlotte on my arm and a basket of fruit cakes on my other arm, I watched Jane Loving while trying to estimate the end to her boundless energy. If my estimates prove true, I would be carrying her back up the cliff walk home, worn out from excitement. For now, I was content to watch her twirl and leap and laugh.

Charlotte walked quietly beside me. I was happy to glance over at my beloved wife and see her strong and well. It is ever a gift to realize what we have survived this year and what we have managed to avoid.

Ben ran ahead to the vicarage and by the time we were all assembled, The Hankins were in the window, waving and smiling at us all. We stopped at the Babington’s where Charles, Ruby and Edith joined our procession, and we left a cake at the Crowe’s apartment.

Next came the Stringer’s where we were greeted by a very pregnant Alison and an ever ebullient James, both eager to share their happy Christmas hearth with us all. It was after Charlotte hugged her sister that I saw her smile falter, for she more than felt the promise of Alison’s protruding stomach as they touched and the moment of sadness that flitted across Charlotte’s countenance was not lost on me.

From there we were to meet all the Parkers for tea at Trafalgar House. As we arrived a footman greeted us with news of Arthur and Lucy and the newest edition of the Parker Clan, born this very morning! A girl for Arthur and I am quite sure he is delighted. Mary showed us his note which read:  
‘Christmas Greetings, One and All family!   
I am pleased to announce that a very tired and  
ecstatic Lucy was delivered of our daughter this  
morning! We are delighted and are sorry to miss tea  
with you all but we will see you soon.’  
~Arthur

A Christmas baby! I was pleased for them both and our tea with Tom and Mary was a time of laughter and fun for us all.

“And who is this?” I asked, reaching for Henry’s new baby.  
Henry smiled and said, “Meet Sidney Parker, Uncle!”  
I was overwhelmed. My namesake howled when first I held him, but quieted as we strolled the room.  
“Marie and I thought about the various challenges of calling him ‘Baby Nunc Sid’ and we decided to make it easier on the young man and simply call him Sidney!”  
I knew the goofy grin on my face was uncontrollable and everyone laughed as the minute young man, again, protested my arms with nothing short of the yell of a banshee. After returning him to his mother at once, I returned to my seat by Charlotte and I wrapped my fingers through the hand on her lap.

All too soon the happy morning ended. With the last cakes delivered to Tom and Mary, Diana and Hans, we started up the beach to the cliff walk home. This was a circular route more than a mile and I knew the hill would challenge Jane Loving, but on she danced, propelled by joy and the excitement of the morning.

“A penny for your thoughts, Mrs Parker,” said I. Charlotte, though softly smiling, had grown quiet and I was half afraid her heart might have been invaded by sadness.

“Oh, I have no other thought than that of the list of many blessings we must acknowledge with the end of this year! Christmas sure is a time of babies and all the hopes for the future they bring, is it not?”

“It is.” Reverend Hankins would, no doubt, know exactly what chapter and verse I could quote back that would lend appropriate weight to her comment, but I was only willing to acknowledge her words and not embellish on her emotions in any other way.  
I looked around at my family as they circled me. The laughter and jostling of the entire crew made me all too aware of how fast a baby would grow into a child hurtling toward adulthood without a care for the speed of the journey. Our children were quite content to leave their babyhood behind as quickly as was humanly possible.

It was at exactly this moment that Jane Loving came back around to wedge herself between us and hold one of each of our hands in her own.  
“When will I be a great lady like Mama?” she asked, trying to settle the timeline for her future.

“Jane Loving, you are already a wonderful little girl and you becoming a great lady like your Mama is just a matter of time!” I told her.

She glanced up at Charlotte, worshipfully. “Well, okay, I guess, I would really like to know when it might happen! What if I miss it?”  
She squeezed both of our hands before charging off again to challenge Randy to a race for the last curve on the path toward home.

The children were delighted to get warm again by the fire in the library, diving back into their card games and puzzles as the afternoon marched toward evening.  
Jessup bunched us all into the carriage for the evening ride to church and I watched as fatigue wove threads of exhaustion through our midst.

“And in the world, darkened by the grief brought on by our innate humanity, Christ was born bringing hope for the world! It was a tall order to place on the head of a little child! This babe, born in a manger among the cows and sheep, was given a quest for His time on earth and we celebrate His birthday every year to remind ourselves of the promises he brings for eternal life for us all!” intoned Reverend Hankins.  
After a few carols that echoed the Reverend’s message we were expelled from the church into a Christmas expectant night, full of candlelight and excitement.

Soon enough, we all were back at home and in bed, anticipating the great day ahead. Charlotte with her arms around me as we listened to the sounds in our home settle into peaceful night. Christine made an occasional snuffling noise and Charlotte giggled softly beside me.

“When our youngest isn’t eating, she is dreaming about eating!” she said.  
I wrapped a curl around my finger on her shoulder and felt her heartbeat with the thumps of my own.

“I love you, Sidney Parker,” said she. “Where else on earth is there such a man of kindness and great example for his children? I surely am the happiest of women to currently walk the earth!”

Such proclamations always touch me! Charlotte is all too aware of the man I used to be and the path I struggled over, to become the man I now have become.  
“I am so glad you are happy, my Charlotte, but if I have one whit of goodness in my soul it is because of your constant and abiding love and faith in me. Without you, I am nothing!” I whispered.

She kissed me then and I was content to welcome Christmas with all it brings!

I write tonight, my children, aware that there are no maps to the future for any of us, but each of you can merely glance down at your capable hands and realize how completely you can change the world for the better.

I know each of you will, in your own ways, and your Mama and I will be most eager to watch and cheer you on!

Good night, my precious children. 

I love you all.

Papa

25 December- Christmas Day

There were books and dolls and tops and ribbons! Oranges and nuts and laughter and total mayhem. Windswept cottage this particular Christmas morning was one long raucous romp that lasted until Christmas luncheon when we were joined by the Babington and Crowe families. Graham and Susan were at their home in Scotland with their grandchildren this year and I missed his loud shouts of laughter and enthusiasm.

We were all content to imbibe on the Christmas goose, many selections of vegetables and seafood and several beautifully decorated puddings. Sara Jessup had outdone herself and I remembered all too well the year she came to us and her process of learning to cook. Many were the days I anticipated death by poison back then but this Christmas dinner was a triumph to her spirited quest to provide all our growing family would ever need. I was grateful that the Jessups would find the envelope I had hidden in the bows of their Christmas tree to express my deep appreciation to their family, now very much a part of our own.

We all gathered in the drawing room, pleased as always to share the evening and we harked the herald in very fine style!

Beyond the cliffs and hidden coves, the waves washed the shore this night, as they do every night, cleansing away the footprints left on the sands the day before. The tide always brings new constellation to the beach sands much as Christmas does as the year behind begins to bow in the dance toward the new year ahead.

The school and all the challenges therein, the children in my home and all their future endeavors and Charlotte, my dearest Charlotte, are the pillars of my world. I am content this Christmas night to accept no other than these blessings for I am the happiest, most fulfilled of men.

Merry Christmas my children!  
As always, I love you! You are my heart.  
Papa

EPILOGUE

15 years later...

The Sanditon School became the place Lady Denham had only dreamed of as the school became the foundation for the lives of many of England’s great members of society.

Ben Parker returned to Sanditon, after his Cambridge experience, and became the new vicar when Reverend Hankins retired from the church.

Grace became a teacher and she and her husband, Peter Kincaid, from Kent were teaching in a school near his home founded on the model of the Sanditon School.  
Gabriella married Charles Babington, as Esther predicted, and the two traveled the world bringing back collections of artifacts from all the places that interested them. Their happiness was as effervescent as is that of both sets of their parents.

Michael, the ‘enchanting’ Michael, has added Cathy Crowe to the Parker family and is most delighted with his wife and life as part of future of the Emporium. 

Joe and Edith Babington Parker will happily present Sidney and Charlotte with their first grandchild early in the next year.

Randy lives in London where his illustrations and writing are wildly popular in several newspapers and periodicals. He was published before he was twenty and seemed destined to become a writer of great acclaim.

Jane Loving is married to Lord Bradley Crane from Bath. They were married in the spring. His kindness and laughter remind her of her Papa, and she can hardly wait to be a mother like her own Mama. Lady Jane Loving Crane has become a grand lady indeed, just like she told her parents she would be.

Christine, with the help of Philip, became a renowned equestrienne and is often the most desired young woman at every hunt or ball. She came out last year in London, under the tutelage and great interest of Susan. She was most content to return home where she is the only Parker child still in residence at Windswept.  
We have it, on very good authority, that she will only marry for the very greatest of loves should she ever find one like that of her mother

Charlotte Heywood Parker and Charlotte’s beloved, Sidney.

~The End~


End file.
